


H 



r 



PRACTICAL 

SYSTEM OF RHETORIC 

OK THE 

PRINCIPLES AND RULES OF STYLE, 

INFERRED FROM 

EXAMPLES OF WFJTENG' 

TO WHICH IS ADDED A 

HISTORICAL DISSERTATION ON ENGLISH STYL* 

BY 

SAMUEL P. NEWMAN, 

PROFESSOR Or RHETORIC IN BOWDOIN OOLLIOB. 

SIXTIETH EDITION 



NEW YORK: 
1TISON, PHINNEY & CO., 48 & 50 WALKER ST. 

CHICAGO : S. C. GRIGGS & CO., 39 & 41 LAKE ST. 

boston: brown, taogard & chase, philadelphia : sower, barnes 

& co., and j. b. lil'pincott & co. cincinnati: moore, wilstaoh, 

keys a co. savannah i j. m. cooper & co. st. louis: keith 

& woods, new Orleans: bloomfield, steel a co. 

detroit : f. raymond a co. 



1862. 






l« 



£aj?n*j iccorciap to act of Coagrera is th« je&r ISM. for 

FLAOG, GOULD AND NEWMAN. 
w t&« CterK s Og.ce of t&e District Court of M*ssacnas*tt*. 



prew T&eol. 36IU* 



.AN 24*908 * 



INTRODUCTION 



The advantages proposed to be attained by the study of 
Rhetoric* 

1. Some acquaintance with the philosophy of rhetoric. 

2. The cultivation of the taste, and in connexion, the 
exercise of the imagination. 

3. Skill in the use of language. 

4. Skill in literary criticism. 

5. The formation of a good style. 

By the philosophy of rhetoric, I here refer to mose princi- 
ples in the science of the philosophy of mind, ana in the phi- 
losophy of language, on which are founded those conclusions 
and directions which are applicable to literary criticism, and 
to the formation of style. Obviously, then, it wil oe said, 
an acquaintance with the science of intellectual pnilosophy, 
and with the philosophy of language, should precede the 
study of rhetoric. Hence, no doubt, Milton and others 
assign to this branch of study the last place in a course of 
education. 

But it is known to all, that the prevalent opinion and prac- 
tice are different from those recommended by Milton ; so 
that our inquiry should be, what is the best practical method 
of acquainting the young with the philosophy of rhetoric — 
those whose minds are not accustomed to philosophical 
investigations, and who are ignorant of those sciences on 
which the art is founded ? 

I answer, that, while the attention should be directed to 
but few principles, and those most essential in a practical 
view, instruction should be imparted principally by familiar, 

* Extracted from a *ecture delivered in Boston before the American 
institute August, 1830 



If INTRODUCTION. 



talking lectures. A text-book, if one is used, should contain 
but a mere outline, — some general principles plainly statea 
and well illustrated. 

Here I would more fully state, what I mean by familiar, 
talking lectures. Suppose I wish to make the student un- 
derstand what I mean by taste, and in so doing, I have 
occasion to speak of the judgment, sensibility, imagination, 
emotions of beauty and sublimity. Now, should I attempt 
to effect my purpose by a definition, or an extended technical 
explanation of these terms, there would be little reason to 
hope for success. I would rather refer him directly to the 
operations of his own mind, point out to him instances 
where he forms a judgment, where his sensibility is excited 
his imagination called into exercise, and emotions of beauty 
and sublimity kindled up in his own soul. It is true he may 
not, after this, be able to give me an exact definition of 
these faculties and intellectual operations, but he has learned 
what is meant by the proposed terms ; and when I have oc- 
casion to use them afterwards, I have no fears of not being 
understood. 

That instruction in this part of rhetoric is attended with 
difficulty, no one will deny. The subjects themselves are 
intricate ; hard to be understood, and still harder to explain, 
especially to those whose minds are immature and unaccus- 
tomed to philosophical reasonings. Here, then, is room foi 
much ingenuity in the instructor ; and without a skilful ef- 
fort on his part, the efforts of the pupil will be of little avail. 
Above all tilings, let not the mockery of set questions and 
set. answers be practised, in teaching what pertains to the 
philosophy of rhetoric. 

After all, it must be allowed, that with the most skilful in- 
struction, and the best text-book, young students will obtain 
but imperfect ideas in what pertains to the philosophy of 
rhetoric. Still, what is thus imperfectly acquired, will be of 
importance to them as opening some interesting fields of 
thought, which, with strengthened powers, they may after- 
wards explore; and further, as aiding them in better under, 
standing the nature of the rules and directions founded on 
these important and somewhat intricate principles. 

I have stated as a second object to be attained by the 
8tudy of rhetoric, the cultivation of a literarv taste, and, in 
connexion, the exercise of the imagination. 



INTRODUCTION. 



The cultivation of a literary taste must evidently depend 
principally on a familiarity with those productions, which are 
esteemed models of excellence in literature. In this re- 
spect, there is a close analogy to the cultivation of taste in 
painting, or in any of the fine arts. We may also learn some- 
thing on this subject, from the course pursued by painters in 
the improvement of their taste. They visit the most cele- 
brated galleries, and seek for models of excellence in their 
art; and these they make the object of close, long-continued 
and patient study. They inquire what there is to excite 
admiration in these paintings, and dwell en their different 
prominent beauties, and in this way cultivate and improve 
their tastes. Now it is in the same way that a literary taste 
is to be cultivated. And that the student may skilfully use 
his models of excellence in literature, and unite with his ob- 
servation of them the application of those principles on which 
they depend, he needs the assistance of an instructor. 

In stating the details of the course here recommended, ] 
remark, that, by the aid of a text-book prepared with refer- 
ence to the proposed method of instruction, the student may 
have brought to his view examples of those instances, where 
there is most frequent occasion for the exercise of literary 
taste. I here refer to what are termed the ornaments of 
style. In connexion with these examples, the nature of 
whatever in literary productions comes under the cogni- 
zance of literary taste, may be explained. The different 
ornaments of style may be pointed out to his notice, and he 
may be led fully to see why attempts of this kind are in 
some instances successful, and in other instances fail. 

When the examples thus cited, and the comments upon 
them, have become familiar to the student, let his attention 
next be directed to finding examples in English writers, 
which may exhibit similar ornaments of style, and in the ex- 
amination of which, there is opportunity for the application 
of the same principles. Here it is that important aid may 
fce rendered by the instructor, since, in conducting hese 
inquiries and forming his decisions, the student needs both 
guidance and confirmation. 

To make myself fully understood, I will here illustrate my 
remarks. Suppose that a student finds in his text-book the 
following ^omparison from the writings of Locke: — 

' The minds of the aged are like the tombs to whioft t?rf*y 
1* 



VI INTRODUCTION. 



are approaching ; where, though the brass and the marble 
remain, yet the inscriptions are effaced by time, and the im- 
agery has mouldered away.' 

This comparison, he is told, is naturally suggested; and 
in connexion with the example, the meaning of this phrase 
is fully explained to him. And not only is he made to see 
what is meant by a comparison's being naturally suggested, 
but to feel, that in the absence of this trait, the pleasure to 
be derived from it, as exciting an emotion of taste, would be 
impaired. Let the student now be directed to bring forward 
from any author, instances of comparison, which are in the 
same manner naturally suggested ; and in this way let him 
become familiar \ r ith the principle stated, and with its appli- 
cation. In the same manner, by directing the attention in 
succession to the different traits in the various ornaments of 
styie, and illustrating, in connexion with examples, the vari- 
ous principles on which these attempts to excite emotions ot 
taste are founded, the pupil is led to a full acquaintance with 
this part of rhetoric. He is enabled at once, when reading 
the productions of any author, to perceive the beauties of 
style, and to classify and arrange them — in other words, he 
acquires a good literary taste. 

But there is another point connected with this part of my 
subject, to which I will for a moment direct your attention. 
I refer to the exercise thus given to the imagination. In our 
courses of study, we have discipline for the memory, for the 
reasoning powers in their various forms, and for the in- 
vention. But no regard is paid to the exercise and im- 
provement of the imagination. And this, not because this 
faculty of the mind is useless, or because it admits not 'of 
being strengthened and improved by exercise. The impres- 
sion is, that there is no method which can be adopted for the 
attainment of this end. Now I would ask, if, by the course 
here recommended, the imagination will not be called into 
exercise, and strengthened? These attempts to excite emo- 
tions of taste are addressed to the imagination ; they are un- 
derstood by the imagination, and it is a just inference, that 
the plan of study I have now recommended, will furnish a 
salutary discipline to the imagination. 

Of the favorable tendency of the method of instruction, 1 
can from my own experience as an instructor, speak with 
some confidence. I have ever found, that my pupils engage 



INTRODUCTION. VI.' 



in this part of their rhetorical course with interest. They 
get new views of the nature of style, are led to notice their 
susceptibilities of emotions, of which before they have been 
unmindful. They also become conscious of their own pow- 
ers of imagination, and learn something of the nature and 
offices of this faculty ; and with these views and this con- 
sciousness, they find that a new source of pleasure is open- 
ed to them. Thus they both derive important aid in be- 
coming writers themselves, and are prepared to read with 
increased interest the writings of others. 

Before concluding my remarks on this head, let me say, 
that what is here recommended, is perfectly practicable. It 
is an employment, which any student with common powers 
of mind may pursue ; and it requires, on the part of the in- 
structor, only that degree of literary taste, which every one 
professing to teach rhetoric should possess. 

The third object proposed to be obtained by the study of 
rheto c, is skill in the use of language. Here I refer both 
to the choice of words, so far as purity and propriety are 
conce ned, and to the construction of sentences. 

Instruction in this part of rhetoric should be conducted 
with reference to two points, — to acquaint the student with 
the nature and principles of verbal criticism, and further to 
lead him to beware of those faults in construction, to which 
he is most liable. 

The former of these appertains to the philosophy of rhet 
oric, and is included under my first head : but I here offei 
an additional remark. It was stated, when speaking of giv- 
ing instruction on the philosophy of rhetoric, that difficulties 
attend this part of the course. These difficulties exist but 
in a slight degree, when exhibiting what is connected with 
the philosophy of language. Here is such abundant oppor- 
tunity for illustration, and examples are so easily adduced, 
that every principle may without difficulty be made perfect- 
ly intelligible. Neither is this part of the study uninterest- 
ing to students. Curiosity is fully awake to whatever per- 
tains to the nature of language, and to the rules that govern 
its use. And here I may be permitted to mention a work, 
which, in what pertains to this part of rhetoric, I regard as 
of the highest authority. I refer to Campbell's Philosophy 
of Rhetoric, — the ingenious, elaborate production of the 
Uuinctilian of English literature. 



Vlll INTRODUCTION. 



To lead the student to beware of those faults in construe* 
tion which are of most common occurrence, — the other 
object in view in this part of the course, must evidently be 
effected by adducing examples of these faults. From the 
nature of the case, the endless forms of correct construction 
cannot be stated. On the obvious principle, then, that 
where one has erred, another will be liable to leave the right 
way, we direct the attention to these wanderings, and con- 
nect with such instances the cautions they naturally suggest. 
The object here in view may be accomplished for the most 
part by the text-book. All that is incumbent on the in 
structor, is, to lead the pupil fully to see what in every ex- 
ample adduced the failure is, and how it is to be remedied. 
This part of a text-book does not require to be dwelt upon 
in the recitation-room. It is rather a part to be referred to 
by the student, when, hesitating as to the construction of 
sentences, he needs guidance and assistance. 

I mention in the fourth place, as an object to be obtained 
by the study of rhetoric, skill in literary criticism. 

Under this head, I include whatever pertains more partic- 
ularly to style, its nature and diversities, as seen in the 
writings of different individuals, and in different classes of 
literary productions. Our inquiry is, What can be done by 
the instructor most efficiently, to aid the pupil in acquiring 
skill in literary criticism, as thus explained ? 

Style has been happily defined by Buffon as ' the man 
himself.' If I wish to become acquainted with any indi- 
vidual, I seek an introduction to him ; I endeavor to learn 
from personal observation the peculiar traits in his charac- 
ter. I may, indeed, from the description of a third person 
receive some general and perhaps just impression respecting 
this individual ; but all this, though it might prepare the way 
for my better understanding his peculiarities when in his 
presence, would alone make me but imperfectly acquainted 
with him. 

The same holds true, if I wish to become acquainted with 
the peculiarities of those of different nations. You might 
describe to me the national traits of the French and of the 
Spanish ; but a visit to those countries, and familiarity with 
heir inhabitants, would be of far more avail in learning their 
I itional traits of character. 

This illustration suggests the best practical method of 



INTRODUCTION. U 



giring instruction in what relates to literary criticism. A 
te*i-book or an instructor may describe, with accuracy and 
fulness, the peculiarities of style, as they are seen in the 
Writings of different individuals, or found in different classes 
of literary productions. But this is not enough. That the 
student may clearly discern these characteristic traits, and 
understand their nature, and the causes on which they de- 
pend, his attention must be directed to these writings. He 
must in some good degree become familiar with them, and 
thus learn wherein they differ, and what there is in each to 
approve or condemn. 

It may be thought, that to bring to the view of the stu- 
dent in this manner the peculiarities of different styles, may 
require too much time and labor. But with the aid of the 
text-book, much of the work may be performed by the stu- 
dent himself. What is most necessary on the part of the 
instructor is, to direct the attention to specimens of different 
styles, and in some few instances to point out characteristic 
traits. The student, with this aid, will soon acquire suffi- 
cient knowledge and skill to apply the remarks found in the 
text-book himself. 

This leads me to remark generally on the importance of 
reading good authors in connexion with rhetorical studies. 
This part of education is, I fear, in most of our schools and 
colleges, too much neglected. From his inability to judge 
of the merits of writers, the student needs guidance in se- 
lecting those which may be most useful to him, and this 
guidance the instructor should feel it is incumbent on him 
to supply. To read over occasionally with the pupil some 
choice specimens of style, may also be of essential advan- 
tage. To learn how to read, is no easy acquisition. Of 
course, I refer, not to the pronunciation of the words, or the 
inflections of the voice, but to the quick and true apprehen- 
sion of the meaning, and a susceptibility to the beauties of 
style. 

In this connexion, too, the student may be taught the true 
nature of literary criticism. It looks not for faults. It 
cherishes not a censorious, captious spirit. Its eye is di- 
rected after what is excellent and praiseworthy — after what 
may inform the mind, give grateful exercise to the imagina- 
tion and refinement to the taste. And when it discerns ex- 
tellences of a high order, as if dazzled with what is bright 



INTRODUCTION 



and imposing, it sees not minute and unimportant defects. 
Tt is indeed nearly allied to that charity which is kind, and 
which, where she discovers what is truly worthy of her regard, 
throws her mantle of forgiveness over a multitude of sins. 

I proceed now to notice the last mentioned advantage pro- 
posed to be obtained by the study of rhetoric. I refer to the 
formation of style. 

This part of a rhetorical course of instruction is not par^ 
ticularly connected with the use of a text-book, further than 
that it furnishes opportunities for the application of princi- 
ples and rules, which are there found. The aid furnished 
by an instructor, is principally in the correction of attempts 
in composition, with such general guidance and advice, as 
the intellectual habits and peculiarities of the individual may 
require. I offer, therefore, on this head, merely a few prac- 
tical suggestions. 

1. It is highly important, that the attention of the student, 
mi his first attempts, should be directed to the management 
of his subject. I would require of him to exhibit a plan, or 
skeleton, stating the precise object he has in view, the divis- 
ions he proposes to make with reference to this point, and 
the manner in which he designs to enlarge on each head. 
In this way, he will not only be aided in forming habits of 
methodically arranging his thoughts, but will be led to adopt 
the easiest and most direct method of proceeding, in writing 
on any subject. 

2. I have ever found, that, so far as the construction of 
sentences is concerned, and here I refer both to the division 
of a paragraph into sentences and to the phrases and forms 
of expression, — I remark, that, in relation to this part of 
the work of composition, I have ever found, that students 
derive important aid from translating select passages fiom 
the writings of good authors in other languages. Every one 
knows, that in this way a command of languages is acquired 
And I would extend the meaning of the phrase, so as to 
include, not only that copia verborum, and that power of nice 
discrimination in the use of words, which are generally un 
derstood to be implied by it, but also the right arrangement 
of words, and the correct construction of sentences. Other 
things being equal, he who, during the first six months 
in which the attention is directed to composition, shoula 
devote half of his efforts to the writing of translation 



INTRODUCTION XI 



would, I doubt not, be in advance of him, all whose exer- 
tions had been employed in the work of composition. 

3. I would further recommend a familiar mode of cor- 
recting the first attempts of the student. If practicable, the 
instructor may with advantage read over with the pupil his 
productions, and alone with him freely comment upon its 
defects and excellences. While in this way needed en- 
couragement is given, the attention of the student is direct- 
ed to that point where there is most need of improvement 
Besides, it not unfrequently happens, that the efforts of the 
student have taken some wrong direction. He has some 
erroneous impressions as to the nature of style, or as to the 
manner in which a good style may be formed. It. may be 
that he is laboring too much on the choice and arrangement 
of his words, or the construction of his sentences ; or, as- 
signing undue importance to the ornaments of style, he may 
be seeking principally after what is figurative, and the ele- 
gances of expression ; or, again, with false notions of what 
is original and forcible, he may be striving after what is 
sententious and striking. Sometimes, too, there exists a 
fastidiousness of taste, which is detrimental. The student 
is kept from doing any thing, because he is unable to do 
better than he can do. In other instances, there is an inju- 
rious propensity to imitation. The student has fixed upon 
some writer as his model, and, servilely copying his master, 
his own native powers are neglected. Now, in all these in- 
stances, the advice of the instructor may be of essential 
benefit. 

One general remark is all that I have to offer further on 
this head. It should ever be impressed on the student, that, 
in forming a style, he is to acquire a manner of writing, to 
some extent, peculiarly his own, and which is to be the in- 
dex of his modes of thinking — the development of his in- 
tellectual traits and feelings. It is the office of the instructor 
to facilitate the accomplishment of this important end, both 
by wisely directing the efforts of his pupil, and bv removing 
every obstacle in his way. 



NOTE TO THE SEVENTH EDITION 

The following work having been republished in Eng- 
land, and introduced into the schools of that com try, and 
having come into extensive use in the United States, the 
publishers, grateful for the favor with which it has been 
received, are induced to present it to the public in an 
improved and more permanent form. It has been stereo- 
typed, with the hope that its circulation may thus be ex- 
tended and its usefulness increased. 

Andover, September, 1838. 



CHAPTER FIRST 



OK THOI/GHT AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING* 



Plan of the work. 

When we read the production of one who is justly ac- 
counted a good writer, we are conscious that our attention 
is engaged, — that we are pleased, and if the subject is one 
which can interest the feelings, that we are moved. If 
from being conscious of these effects we are led to search 
for their causes, we find, that our attention is engaged by 
the valuable thoughts and just reasonings that are exhibit- 
ed ; we are pleased by what gives exercise to our imagina- 
tion, — by happy turns of expression, — by well introduced 
and well supported illustrations. We are moved, because 
the writer, whose productions we are reading, is moved, and 
our feelings of sympathy cause us to be borne along on the 
same current, by which he is carried forward. But we now 
ask, what may be hence inferred in relation to the writer ? 
Do we not discover, that his mind has been stored with 
knowledge 1 that his reasoning powers have been strength- 
ened and subjected to salutary discipline? — that his im- 
agination is active and well regulated, and his heart alive 
to emotion 1 and is it not from his possessing these resources 
-'-these intellectual and moral habits, that he is able to 
2 



14 



ON THOUGHT 



engage our attention, to please and to move us, and conse- 
quently has acquired the reputation of a good writer ? 

If this view be just, we may infer, that the foundations oi 
good writing are laid in the acquisition of knowledge, — in 
the cultivation of the reasoning powers, — in the exercise 
and proper regulation of the imagination, and in the sensi- 
bilities of the heart. 

But let us now suppose, that two writers, who possess 
those qualities, which I have called the foundations of good 
writing, in equal degrees, should write on the same subject 
There might still be important differences between them. 
One might use words with correctness and skill, selecting 
always the best term ; the writings of the other might show 
improprieties and want of skill. The sentences of the one 
might be smooth in their flow, perspicuous in their mean- 
ing, gratefully diversified in their length, and well suited to 
the thought that is conveyed ; those of the other might be 
rough, obscure, ambiguous, and tiresome from their uni- 
formity ; and while we are engaged and pleased in reading 
the production of the former writer, we soon become wearied 
and disgusted with that of the latter. Here then we have 
a new cause in operation, anu tnis obviously is the different 
degrees of skill in the use of language, possessed by these 
two writers. 

From this statement, we may learn the objects of atten- 
tion to the critic, in examining a literary production. He 
would judge of the value of the thoughts, of the correctness 
of the reasoning, especially of the method observed in the 
discussion of the subject. He would next apply the princi- 
ples of good taste, and notice what is addressed to the im. 
agination, and judge of its fitness to excite emotions of 
beauty, or of grandeur, or other emotions of the same class- 
He might then direct his attention more immediately to the 
style, and examine its correctness, perspicuity, smoothness 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING. 15 

adaptation to the subject, and the various qualities of a 
good style. 

The course here marked out, &s that of the critic in the 
examination of a literary production, suggests the objects of 
attention and the method pursued in the following work. 
In the first part, a writer is regarded as addressing himself 
to the understanding of his readers, and the importance of 
being able to think well, as including the number and value 
of the thoughts and the proper arrangement of them, is con- 
sidered. The writer is then regarded as addressing him- 
self more immediately to the imagination, with the design 
of interesting or pleasing his readers. Here the nature of 
taste, which directs in what is addressed to the imagination, 
is explained, — the proper objects of its attention in a lite- 
rary work pointed out, and some instructions given which 
may aid in its cultivation. Skill in the use of language is 
uext made the object of attention, so far as this is necessary 
for the accurate and perspicuous conveyance of the thoughts. 
In the remaining part of the work, the qualities of a good 
style are enumerated, and the different circumstances on 
which they depend, are mentioned. Through the whole 
work, the inductive method is observed as far as practi- 
cable. Examples are given, and rules and principles are 
inferred from these examples. At the close of the work 
also exercises are found, the analysis of which may call forth 
the skill of the learner, and make him familiar with the rule? 
which are stated. 

It will at once occur, that in each of the particulars men- 
tioned, Rhetoric is connected, in a greater or less degree, 
with other departments of instruction. The Grammarian 
gives us rules for the attainment of correctness in the use 
of language ; and Logic informs us of the different modes of 
conducting an argument. The intellectual philosopher a (so 
explains to us the phenomena of mind, particularly of those 



16 ON THOUGHT 



emotions with which taste is connected. This connexion 
has been borne in mind, and hence it is, that on some parts, 
comparatively little is said, and that of a general natuie 
Other parts, which are thought to belong more appropriately 
to Rhetoric, are more fully treated. 

Extensive Knowledge essential to the good writer. 

It is a received maxim, that to write well we must think 
well. To think well, implies extensive knowledge and well 
disciplined intellectual powers. To think well on any par- 
ticular subject, implies that we have a full knowledge of 
that particular subject, and are able to understand its rela^ 
tions to other subjects, and to reason upon it. 

In saying that extensive knowledge is essential to the 
good writer, the word knowledge is meant to include both 
an acquaintance with the events and the opinions of the 
day. and with what is taught in the schools. That this 
Knowledge is necessary to the good writer, may be inferred 
from the intimate connexion between the different objects 
of our thoughts. It is impossible for a writer to state and 
explain his opinions on one subject, without showing a 
knowledge of many others. And if, in the communication 
of his opinions, he endeavors to illustrate and recommend 
them by the ornaments of style, the extent of his knowledge 
will be shown by his illustrations and allusions. Were it 
necessary to establish this position, it might be done by 
analysing a passage of some able writer, and by showing, 
even from the words that he uses, the knowledge which its 
composition implies. 

He, then, who would become a good writer, must possess 
a rich fund of thoughts. The store-house of the mind must 
be well filled ; and he must have that command over hia 
treasures, which will enable him to bring forward, whenever 
he occasion may require, what has here been accumulated 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING IV 

'or future use. To make these acquisitions, is not the 
work of a month, nor of a year. He who would gain much 
Knowledge, must possess habits of diligence and attention. 
He must be always and every where a learner. Especially 
must he seek after a knowledge of facts, and distinct views 
of received opinions on important subjects. He will be 
mindful, that the extent of his knowledge will depend more 
on his manner of reading, than on the amount read, and on 
h'3 attention to the facts which fall under his observation, 
than on the number of these facts. 

Discipline of mind essential to the good writer. 

In saying that the discipline of the mind is essentia' o 
the good writer, particular reference is had to the mason- 
ing powers. In other words, the good write" ,nust have 
sound sense. He must be able to examir subjects, and 
pursue a connected train of thought with power and cor 
rectness. That this is essential, may be inferred from the 
rank, which is held by the understanding among the differ- 
ent faculties of the mind. A man may have invention, 
memory and imagination, but if he cannot reason accurately 
and with power, he will not interest and inform his readers, 
and thus acquire the reputation of a good writer. It is also 
well known, that many of the faults of style arise from in- 
distinctness in the thoughts, and an inability to discern their 
relations to each other. Both these causes of defects in. 
writing are removed by the discipline of the mind. 

The improvement of the reasoning powers, is the appro- 
priate object of the study of the sciences. The ability to 
reason justly and ably must be acquired by practice. There 
may be physical strength of mind as of body, but the strength 
of the giant will not avail him in rearing a stately edifice, 
unless his strength be combined with skill ; and neither can 
he giant mind rear its structure without the guidance of 
2* 



18 



ON THOUGHT 



skill, acquired both by instruction and practice. And how 
can this skill be better acquired, than by the study of those 
sciences, which require patient and careful research for hid- 
den principles, or furnish instances of close and long-con- 
tinued trains of argumentation? Hence the fondness for 
metaphysical and moral investigations, and for the exact 
sciences, which is ever felt by those who excel as sound 
reasoners. And the student, who in the course of his edu- 
cation is called to search for truth in the labyrinth of meta- 
physical and moral reasonings, and to toil in the wearisome 
study of the long and intricate solutions of mathematical 
principles, is acquiring that discipline of the mind, whicr 
fits him to distinguish himself as an able writer. 

But in addition to the exercise and improvement of the 
reasoning powers, there ire certain intellectual habits, which 
form a part of the mental discipline of the able writer, and 
are worthy of particular consideration. To these I now 
propose to direct the attention. 

Habit of patient reflection necessary. 

He who writes for the instruction of others, seeking in 
this way to enlighten and influence his readers, offers to 
them the results of his own investigations and reflections. 
Unless then he is able to state new facts or to present new 
views of facts and opinions already known ; he has no claim 
on the attention of other minds. Hence arises the necessity 
of habits of investigation and reflection. The good writer 
is a man of thought ; he is accustomed to observe accu- 
rately the phenomena, both in the natural world and in the 
scenes of life, which come under his notice, and to seek an 
explanation of them ; and whatever statements or opinions 
he finds in the writings of others, or hears advanced by 
them, he is wont to examine them, to test the validity of the 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING. 19 

arguments brought forward in their support, and the objec- 
tions which are made, or which rise up in his own mind. 

The habits of thought here recommended, are not easily 
formed or generally possessed. The attention of most minds 
is so much engrossed with the objects and occurrences 
around them, that there is little inclination or ability to look 
in upon their own thoughts and trace out their connexions 
and relations. Even educated men are too ready to be sat- 
isfied with superficial views of subjects, and to shrink 
back from that intellectual effort, which a more thorough 
investigation requires. But there can be no doubt, that 
habits of research and reflection have done more towards 
enlightening and improving men, than all the brilliant sal- 
lies and sudden efforts of genius. It is indeed this ability 
to think, joined with a favorable constitution of mind, which 
gives its possessor a claim to the name of genius. It is said, 
that when the great Newton was asked, how he was enabled 
to make the greatest discoveries that any mortal had ever 
communicated to his fellow men, he answered, by thinking. 

A habit of patient reflection should especially be enjoined 
upon the young writer. Let him remember, that his dan- 
ger is from a slight and superficial acquaintance with his- 
subject, and not enter too hastily on its treatment. He sits- 
down to reflect, and finds that he has some floating thoughts 
on what he intends to discuss. This is not enough. He 
must direct his thoughts to some definite object, and find 
out all that may be made useful in exhibiting and enforcing 
his opinions. Neither let him be discouraged, if difficulties 
offer themselves and first efforts are vain. Often, in the 
course of such investigations and patient examination of a 
subject, new views and valuable thoughts will present them 
selves. We make new discoveries. Our minds become 
tilled with the subject, and our thoughts flow forth in order 
wid abundance. 



20 ON THOUGHT 



It is by thus carefully and patiently reflecting on his sub- 
ject, that the writer prepares himself to read with advantage 
what has been written by others. Having his own viewa 
and opinions, which are the result of patient thought and 
thorough examination, he is enabled to make comparisons 
between the opinions he has formed and those of other men. 
Wherein the opinions of others coincide with his own, he 
feels strengthened and supported. Wherein they differ, he 
is led to a more careful examination ; and thus the danger 
of falling into error himself, and of leading others astrav, is 
liminished. Often also, in reading the productions of oth- 
ers, some new views will be brought before the mind, or 
some aid derived for illustrating and enforcing what is de- 
signed to be communicated. In this way, too, the writer i? 
less liable to be biased by the authority of a name, and to 
become the retailer of the opinions of other men. These 
remarks are designed to answer the inquiry, how far we 
ought to read what others have written on a subject, before 
attempting to write ourselves. We should read, not so much 
with the design of furnishing our minds with ideas, as to 
test the value of our own thoughts, and receive hints, 
which may be dwelt upon and thus suggest new views and 
thoughts. 

There can be no doubt, that the practice of most young 
writers is contrary to what is here recommended. Imme- 
diately upon selecting a subject on which to write, they read 
what others have written, and thus instead of trusting to thfl 
resources of their own minds, they look to books for thoughts 
and opinions. The injurious effect of this habit is seen in 
that want of originality and vigor of thought, which in 
later periods of life characterizes the efforts of tb3se servila 
minds 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING. 2J 



Method. 

Another intellectual attainment essential to the success 
of the writer, is the power of methodically arranging his 
thoughts. It is well known, that the thoughts in their pas- 
sage through the mind, are connected together by certain 
principles or laws of association ; and these laws are differ- 
ent in different minds. In the mind of one man these asso- 
ciations are accidental. One thought introduces another 
because it has happened to be joined with it, having before 
>een brought to view in the same place, or at the same time. 
Another man thinks in a more philosophical manner, and 
ooks at the causes and consequences of whatever passes un- 
der his observation. When his attention is turned to any 
subject, there is some leading inquiry in view, and the differ- 
ent trains of thought which pass through his mind, are seen 
in their bearing on this leading object. As a necessary re- 
sult, he has clear and connected views of whatever subject he 
examines, and is prepared to place before the minds of oth- 
ers, the conclusions to which he has arrived, with the rea- 
sonings by which they are supported. 

To attain this power of methodically arranging the 
thoughts, or as it is sometimes termed, of looking a subject 
into shape, it is recommended to study with care the works 
of those, who are accustomed to think with order and pre 
cision. It may be of advantage, often to make a written 
analysis of such productions, stating in our own language 
the proposition, which is the design of the writer to estab- 
lish, and the different arguments which he has brought foi- 
ward in its support. This exercise will be found advanta- 
geous, not only as it aids in forming a valuable intellectual 
babit, preparatory to the work of composition, but as it ena- 
bles us to possess ourselves, in the best manner, of the opin 
io^s and reasonings of well disciplined minds. 



22 ON THOUGHT 

It is also recommended for the attainment of method, te 
exercise the mind in the work of forming plans. The im- 
pression is too common, that all which is necessary for be- 
coming a good writer, is to direct the attention to the man 
ner of conveying the thoughts by language. But this is an 
erroneous impression. While it is the design of Logic to 
aid in the investigation of truth, it is one purpose of Rheto- 
ric, to give directions for exhibiting to others what is thus 
discovered. Hence the plan, or the right division of a com- 
position and the arrangement of its several parts, becomes a 
prominent object of attention and study. The young wri- 
ter, especially, should always be required to form and state 
his plan, before writing ; and, as here recommended, it will 
be found advantageous to make this a distinct exercise. In 
this way, habits of consecutive thinking will be formed, and 
a principle of order established in the mind, which is im- 
parted to every subject of its contemplation. 

Amplification. 

Another qualification of the good writer, which has its 
foundation in the thoughts and is connected with the intel- 
lectual habits, is the power of enlarging upon the positions 
and opinions advanced. When any assertion has been 
made, whether it be a leading proposition, or a subordinate 
head or division, the writer is desirous, that what is bus 
advanced should be understood and received by his readers. 
He endeavors therefore to exhibit his proposition more full* 
10 support it by argument, and to enforce it upon the con 
sideration and observance of others. His attempts to effeci 
these objects, constitute what is called amplification. 

To state the various ways, in which writers enlarge upo» 
the propositions which they advance, is impracticable. In- 
genuity is continually in exercise, seeking to arrest the at 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING. 23 

tention and awaken the interest of readers. There are 
however a few general principles, which may be stated, at 
the same time that some suggestions are made, as to the 
best ways of attaining and improving this power of amplifi- 
cation. 

One leading object of amplification, is the more full exhi- 
bition of the meaning of what is asserted. This is effected 
in the following ways ; 

1. By formal definitions of the words, or phrases, used in 
stating the proposition, or head of discourse. This is neces- 
sary, when the words or phrases are new, or uncommon, or 
used in a sense differing in any respect from common usage. 

2. By stating the proposition in different ways, at the 
same time shewing what limitations are designed to apply 
to it, and wherein there is danger of mistake, which it is 
necessary to guard against. This we often do in conversa- 
tion, when we fear that an assertion we have made, is not 
fully and rightly understood. 

3. By stating particular cases, or individual instances, and 
thus shewing what is meant by a general proposition. 

4. By illustrations, especially by formal comparisons and 
historical allusions. What is familiar to our minds, is thus 
made to aid us in understanding what is less obvious and less 
easily discerned. 

A second object of amplification is to support by argument 
the proposition or assertion advanced. Here, of course, the 
amplification will vary with the nature of the argument used, 
The more common forms are, 

1, When the proposition to be established is of the na- 
ture of a general truth, and the writer supports it by an 
enumeration of the particular instances, on which it is 
founded, or from which it has been inferred. This is called 
Induction. 

Pale) treating on the goodness of Deity, lays down the 



24 ON THOUGHT 



following proposition, that in a vast plurality of instances in 
which contrivance is perceived, the design of the contrivance 
is beneficial. To prove this proposition, he looks at the 
different parts of animals as they are subservient to the uses 
of the animal, and also at the various orders of animal ex- 
istence ; and thus from particular instances infers a genera, 
conclusion. This is an example of inductive reasoning. 

2. When a proposition is established by a statement of 
facts, or an appeal to acknowledged authorities. Thus Ad- 
dison, when endeavoring to shew that a middle condition in 
life is to be chosen as favorable to the cultivation of the 
moral virtues, introduces the prayer of Agur. This is an 
argument from Testimony. 

3. When similar cases are stated, and the inference is 
made, that what is proved or acknowledged to hold true in 
the one case, is true also in the corresponding case. This 
is an argument from Analogy. 

Illustration. In observing different orders of animal life, 
we notice important changes as to their modes of existence. 
Such is the transition of the caterpillar to the butterfly, ani 
of the bird from its confinement in the shell to its full fledged 
state. Bishop Butler hence derives an argument from anal- 
ogy in favor of the existence of man in a future state. 

Other forms of argument are occasionally resorted to, in 
proof of propositions and assertions. Those which have 
been mentioned, are in most frequent use : and we learn 
from them the nature of amplification, so far as it is of an 
argumentative kind. 

A third object of amplification is to persuade. A writer 
would recommend, or enforce, what he advances. He 
would induce his readers to think that what he proposes to 
them, is desirable ; and further, that the course which he 
recommends for its attainment is practicable and wi-11 be 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING. 25 

successful. Here then the amplification becomes in part 
hortatory, and in part argumentative. 

So far as the amplification is hortatory, it consists of ap- 
peals to some leading principles in the constitution of man 
— to his conscience, or his sense of what is morally right 
and wrong — to his selfish propensities, or the desire for 
his own welfare and happiness, and to his feelings of benev- 
olence. Other passions are also appealed to in particular 
cases. In making these appeals to the sense of justice, and 
the selfish and social principles of our nature, there is fre- 
quert occasion to view one proposition in its connexion 
with others, to make inferences from what is felt and ac- 
knowledged to be true in cases of frequent occurrence, to 
that which is more rarely witnessed. (See Exercise II with 
remarks.) 

Appeals are also often made in this kind of amplification 
to* common sense. By this it is meant, that the writer en- 
deavors to recommend and enforce his proposition by ac- 
counting for it, that is, by assigning the causes or reasons on 
which it rests. It is asserted, for example, that men pro- 
foundly versed in science are usually negligent in attending 
to the common transactions of life ; and in supporting this 
proposition, the writer dwells on the nature of habits of ab- 
straction, and assigns the existence of these habits as a 
cause of the negligence referred to. Thus he accounts for 
what is asserted in his proposition, and every man of com- 
mon sense perceives the reasonableness of the cause assigned. 
Appeals of this kind to the common sense of readers, which 
are sometimes called arguments from cause to effect, are 
more frequently used to instruct and influence those of can- 
did minds, than to convince opposers. They gratify also tne 
strong propensity of man to know the causes of things, and 
thus o.SDOse the mind to the reception of any proposition 
which they are brought to support. 
3 



26 ON THOUGHT 



The inquiry may here arise, what kinds of composition, 
and what circumstances, require a brief, and what demana 
an extended amplification? It may be said generally, in 
reply, that writings designed to excite emotion, and to influ- 
ence the will, require a more extended amplification than 
those which are argumentative, or those addressed directly 
to the understanding. In the former case, it is desirable, 
that the mind should be led to dwell on what is presented 
before it, and to notice whatever is fitted and designed to 
excite the desired emotion. Hence copiousness of detail, 
and a full and minute statement of attending circumstances. 
are required. — On the other hand, an argument should 
be stated concisely and simply ; in this way it offers itself 
in a form most striking and convincing to the mind. Some- 
times, however, it is necessary to modify these general di- 
rections. An argument may be abstruse and complex, and 
hence may require to be stated at greater length ; or those, 
for whom the production is designed, may be men of uncul- 
tivated minds, and unaccustomed to connected reasonings 
In these instances, it may be well to depart from the general 
rule, and to expand and repeat the argument stated 

The nature and object of amplification may be learnt 
from what has been stated. The inquiry remains, How is 
this power of enlarging upon a topic attained ? or rather, 
upon what intellectual habits and qualifications, does the 
successful exercise of it depend? And here I mention, 

1. Extent and command of knowledge. 

It was stated at the commencement of this chapter, that 
extent of knowledge is essential to the good writer. But it 
is not sufficient, that the mind is well stored with facts. — 
Our thoughts must be at command. They must come at 
our bidding, and be made to effect the purposes for which 
they are needed. This power of producing and applying 
our knowledge as occasion demands, evidently depends on 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING 27 

ihe intellectual habits, especially on the etentiveness and 
readiness of the memory. 

2. Closely connected with the command of the thoughts, 
is the power of illustration. Successfully to perform this 
part of amplification, the writer needs to be familiar with 
objects and scenes in the natural world, with passing events, 
and with the whole circle of science and literature. He 
needs also an active imagination. Liveliness of fancy is no 
less conducive to the clear and striking exhibition of the 
thoughts, than to ornaments of style. Hence the cultiva- 
tion of this class of the powers is equally important to the 
practical and to the elegant writer ; to him who aims to en- 
lighten the mind and improve the heart, and to him who 
would gratify the taste and please the fancy of his readers. 

3. Another requisite for success in amplification, is defi- 
niteness of thought in our reasonings. There are men of 
strong minds, who reason ably, and, if we look at the con 
elusions to which they arrive, correctly, but who, are unable 
to follow out in their own minds, or to state to others, the 
train of argument they have pursued. To do this, requires 
a mental discipline, to which their intellectual powers have 
not been subjected. On the contrary, those who are accus- 
tomed to look in upon the operations of their own minds, 
and to think with precision and accuracy, are able to state 
their reasonings definitely and fully to others ; and this, as 
.'t has been said, is the kind of amplification, which in argu- 
mentative writings is required. 

4. Another requisite for success in amplification, is copi- 
ousness of expression. This phrase includes both a com- 
mand of words and of construction, and he who excels in 
this particular, has one important qualification for enlarging 
apon the topics on which he writes, especially when joined 
with the other qualifications that have been mentioned. 
Copiousness of expression is acquired by a familiarity with 



28 



ON THOUGHT 



good authors ; and the differences, which in this respect 
are found among writers, are principally to be traced t<? 
some diversities in their literary advantages and habits. 
Those, who in their early years are familiar with books, 
and accustomed to listen to the conversation of literary 
men, usually acquire, with little effort, copiousness of ex- 
oression. Much advantage in this respect is also derived 
from translations, whether written or oral, from foreign lan- 
guages into our own. 

Different kinds of composition. 

Writings are distinguished from each other, as didactic, 
persuasive, argumentative, descriptive and narrative. These 
distinctions have reference to the obje. ♦. which the writer 
has primarily and principally in view. DiJactic writing, as 
the name implies, is used in conveying instruction ; the 
common text-books used in a course of education are exam- 
ples. When, in connexion with instruction, precepts are 
enjoined, and rules laid down for the observance of those 
who read, we have an example of didactic preceptive writ- 
ing (Ex. i.) When it is designed to influence the will, 
the composition becomes of the persuasive kind ; the pro- 
posed object is made to appear desirable, and the reader is 
urged to pursue it. Of this class, are sermons and most 
discourses addressed to deliberative assemblies. (Ex. n.) 
Another kind of composition, and one which is found united 
with most others, is the argumentative. Under this head, 
are included the various forms of" argument, the state- 
ment of proofs, the assigning of causes, and, generally, 
those writings, which are addressed to the reasoning facul- 
ties of the mind. (Ex. m.) Narrative and descriptive 
writings relate past occurrences, and place before the mind. 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING. 29 

*)r its contemplation, various objects and scenes. (Ex. iv. 
and v.) 

These different Kinds of composition are often found 
an i ted together in the same discourse. In ancient systems 
of Rhetoric, they became distinct objects of attention, and 
appropriate directions were given for the composition of 
each part. It is not, however, designed to treat, in this chap- 
ter, on the management of the subject in an extended regular 
discourse. Nothing more is attempted, than to state and 
illustrate some general remarks, pertaining to this topic. 
The kind of composition more immediately in view, is an 
essay, or treatise, in part argumentative, and in part per- 
suasive, — such as is adapted to defend and enforce the 
opinions of a writer on any subject he would present to the 
consideration of his readers 

Selection of a subject. 

It is a direction of Horace, 

Sumite materiam vestris, qui scnbitis, cequam 
Viribus.* 

The meaning of this maxim evidently is, that we should noi 
attempt to write on subjects which are beyond the reach of 
our mental powers, and to the treatment of which, from our 
habits of thought, we are not fitted. Rightly to understand 
and discuss some subjects, requires a previous knowledge 
and powers of reasoning, which are not commonly possessed ; 
and when these essential prerequisites do not exist, our labor 
must be in vain. 

The injunction of Horace, as thus explained, admits of 
being applied to the selection of subjects for young writers 

* Examine well, ye writers, weigh with care, 
What suits your genius ; what your strength can bear. 

Francis 



SO ON THOUGHT 



And on this point, two important directions may be given 
they should be topics which they are capable of fully under 
standing, and which are interesting to them. Let a pupi. 
be required to write on a subject which is above his com- 
prehension, and his composition becomes either a succession 
of vague and disconnected assertions, or a collection of 
thoughts and sentences from different authors. In either 
case, the exercise, though laborious perhaps, is injurious to 
the intellectual habits of him by whom it is performed. 
The subject selected should also be interesting, one within 
the usual range of the writer's studies and conversation, 
and which may have to him an air of reality. Descriptions 
of scenes and occurrences which have come under imme- 
diate observation, are for these reasons recommended, or if 
the composition be of a didactic kind, the attention may be 
directed to subjects of an ethical nature. 

The neglect of what is here recommended may lead to 
much vain and fruitless labor, and perhaps to fatal discour- 
agement. Young writers not unfrequently get the impres- 
sion, that they have not a genius for writing, or that in their 
case there are peculiar difficulties and hinderances, when the 
true difficulty is the wrong selection of subjects for their first 
attempts in composition. 

Introduction. 

Whether a composition should have a formal introduction 
or not, must be determined by the good sense of the writer. 
In short essays, it is generally best to commence with a 
statement of the subject, and to enter at once on its discus- 
sion. There should at least be a proportion observed be- 
tween tne introduction and the rest of the performance. A 
huge portico before a small building, always appears out of 
place When an introduction is used, it should be striking 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING. 31 

and appropriate. Often the opportunity is improved, to 
correct some mistake, or remove some prejudice connected 
with the subject to be discussed, — or a statement is made 
of facts, the knowledge of which is important to the right 
understanding of what follows, — or general remarks may 
be made, designed to impress the reader with a sense of the 
importance and interest of what is advanced. But what- 
ever be the nature of the introduction, it should be written 
with great care. Before the minds of readers become en- 
gaged in the discussion of the subject, the attention is at 
liberty to fix itself on the skill shown in the choice of words 
and the modelling of the expression. It is also well known, 
that first impressions are important. A happy turn of ex- 
pression, or a well timed allusion in the commencement of 
a performance, may effect much in arresting the attention 
of readers and conciliating their good will. 

The following introduction to Webster's Address, deliv 
ered on Bunker's Hill, is striking and appropriate 

" The uncounted multitude before me, and around me, proves tne 
feeling which the occasion has excited. These thousands of happy 
faces, glowing with sympathy and joy, and, from the impulses of a 
common gratitude, turned reverently to Heaven, in this spacious 
temple of the firmament, proclaim that the day, the place, and the 
purpose of our assembling have made a deep impression on our 
learts." 

The speaker seems aware of the thoughts and feelings 
which have taken possession of every heart, and giving 
utterance to these thoughts and feelings, he arrests with 
consummate skill the attention, and conciliates the good will 
91 those whom he addresses. The expression, too, " in tnis 
spacious temple of the firmament," though not striking 
from its novelty, is yet, from the circumstances under which 
t was uttered, happy and truly appropriate. 



ON THOUGHT 



On the statement of the subject. 

The first and leading object of attention in e\ery compo- 
sition of an argumentative kind, is to determine the precise 
point of inquiry — the proposition which is to be laid down 
and supported Unless the writer has steadily before him 
some point which he would reach, he will ever be liable tc 
go astray — to lose himself and his readers. It is not til 
he has determined on the definite object of inquiry, that he 
can know what views to present, and how long to dwell on 
the different topics he may discuss. 

It is recommended to him, who is considering what propo- 
sition shall be laid down, and in what form it shall be 
stated, to ask himself the three following questions ; I. What 
is the fact ? 2. Why is it so ? 3. What consequences 
result ? Suppose as an illustration, that my thoughts have 
been turned towards the manifestations of wisdom, good- 
ness and power in the works of creation around me, and 
I wish to lead those whom I address, to be mindful of 
these things. I ask myself, 1. What is the fact? In re- 
ply, it may be said, — that in the material world there are 
numerous indications of infinite wisdom and benevolence, 
and of almighty power. I *ask, 2. How is the existence of 
these works to be accounted for ? What is the cause ? J 
answer, God hath created them. I ask again, 3. Whal 
should be the consequence? Again I reply, men should 
live mindful of God. I embody the results of my inquiries 
in the following proposition ; Men who live in the midst of 
objects which shew forth the perfections of the "gt eat Crea- 
tor, should live mindful of Him. 

It is not always necessary, that the proposition to be sup- 
ported, should be thus formally stated, though this is usually 
done in writings of an argumentative nature. Son etimes it 
is elegantly implied, or left to be infjrred from the introduc 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING. 33 

tory remarks. When however any doubt can exist as to 
the object proposed, or there is any danger that the reader 
may mistake the design of the writer, the precise object of 
discussion cannot be too distinctly and formally stated. In 
the management of the subject, as in the expression of the 
thoughts, elegance should always be sacrificed to perspicuity. 
Half the controversies and differences of opinion among 
men, arise from their not distinctly understanding the ques- 
tions on which they write and converse. 

It is a common impression with young writers, that the 
wider the field of inquiry on which they enter, the more 
abundant and obvious will be the thoughts, which will offer 
themselves for their use. Hence, by selecting some gene- 
ral subject, they hope to secure copiousness of matter, and 
thus to find an easier task. Experience, however, shews 
that the reverse is true — that as the field of inquiry is nar- 
rowed, questions arise more exciting to the mind, and 
thoughts are suggested of greater value and interest to the 
readers. Suppose, as an illustration, that a writer proposes 
to himself to write an essay on literature. Amidst the nu- 
merous topics which might be treated upon under this term, 
what unity of subject could be expected 1 How common- 
place and uninteresting would be the thoughts advanced ! 
But let some distinct inquiry be proposed, or some assertion 
be made and supported, of which the extract among the 
Exercises, entitled a " Defence of literary studies in men of 
business," is an instance, and there is a copiousness of in- 
teresting thoughts, presented in a distinct and connected 
manner 



On the plan or divisions. 

Having before his mind the precise object of inquiry, and 
having stated also, either in a formal manner, or by impli- 



34 ON THOUGHT 



cation, the proDosition to be supported, the writer now turns 
his attention to the formation of his plan ; in other words, 
he determines in what order and connection his thoughts 
shall be presented. Thus are formed the divisions cf a 
composition, which will correspond in their nature to the 
leading design and character of the performance. In argu- 
mentative discussions, the heads are distinct propositions or 
arguments, designed to support and establish the leading 
proposition. In persuasive writings, they are the different 
considerations, which the writer would place before his 
readers, to influence their minds, and induce them to adopt 
the opinions and pursue the course, which he recommends. 
In didactic writings, they are the different points of instruc- 
tion. In narrative and descriptive writings, they are the 
different events and scenes, which in succession are brought 
before the mind. 

It is obvious, that no particular rules of general applica- 
tion, can be given to aid the writer in forming his plan. It 
must vary with the subject and occasion. Here then is 
room for the exercise of ingenuity ; and the habits of con- 
secutive thinking mentioned in a former section of this 
chapter, are the best preparation for this part of his work. 
But though no specific rules can be given, there are a few 
general directions, which will now be stated. It will be 
seen, that they apply principally to those writings, which 
are of an argumentative nature, and which alone admit of 
<m extended plan. 

1. Every division should have a direct and obvious bear 
ing on the leading purpose of the writer. 

2. The different divisions should be distinct, one not in 
eluding another. 

3. The divisions should to a good degree exhaust the 
•ubject, and taken together should present a whole. 

Let us suppose, in illustration of these rules, that it is 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING. 3*1 

proposed to write an essay on Filial duties As the object 
of the essay, the writer designs to shew, that children should 
render to their parents obedience and love. His division is 
as follows . Children should render obedience and love o 
their parents, 

1. Because they are under obligation to their parents for 
benefits received from them. 

2 Because in this way they secure their own happiness 

3. Because God has commanded them to honor their pa- 
rents. 

In this division there is a manifest reference to the object 
of the writer. The different heads are also distinct from 
each other, and taken together give a sufficiently full view 
of the subject. It is in accordance then with the preceding 
directions. 

Let us now suppose that the following division had been 
made ; 

Children should render obedience and love to their pa- 
rents, 

1. Because they are under obligations to them for bene- 
fits received from them. 

2. Because their parents furnish them with food and 
clothing 

3. Because in this way they secure their own happiness 

4. Because there is a satisfaction and peace of conscience 
in the discharge of filial duties. 

This division is faulty, since the different parts are not 
distinct from each other. The second head is included un- 
der the first, and the fourth under the third. 

A third division might be made as follows; Children 
should render obedience and love to their parents, 

1. Because they should do what is right. 

2, Because in this way they secure their own happiness. 



36 ON THOUGHT 



3. Because God has commanded them to nonor their pa- 
rents. 

It may be said of the first part of this division, that it has 
no particular reference to the object of the writer. It is a 
truth of general application, and may with equal propriety 
be assigned in enforcing any other duty as that of filial obe- 
dience. It is also implied in the other heads, since chil- 
dren do what is right, when, in obedience to God's com- 
mand, they seek to secure their own happiness. 

The question may arise, Is it of importance distinctly to 
state the plan which is pursued ? Should there be formal 
divisions of a discourse 1 To this I answer, that in the 
treatment of intricate subjects, where there are many divis- 
ions, and where it is of importance that the order and con- 
nexion of each part should be carefully observed, to state 
the divisions is the better course. But it is far from being 
always essential. Though we never should write without 
forming a distinct plan for our own use, yet it may often be 
best to let others gather this plan from reading our produc- 
tions. A plan is a species of scaffolding to aid us in erect- 
ing the building. When the edifice is finished, we may let 
the scaffolding fall. 

Arrangement. 

In the discussion of a subject, which is of an arguments 
tive nature, the direction is generally given, that the argu- 
ments should rise in importance. In this way the attention, 
excited by novelty at first, may continue to be held, and a 
full and strong conviction be left on the mind at the conclu- 
sion of the reasoning. This, as a general rule, may be ob- 
served, but the more obvious occurrence of an argun. ent or 
gome other cause, will often require the skilful writer to de 
part from it. 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GOOD WRITING. 37 

Another rule of more importance is, that arguments from 
eause to iffect, or those which account for what is asseited 
in the leading proposition, supposing it to be true, should 
precede those of a stronger or more convincing kind, such 
as arguments from testimony or induction. ' Even this ru'^ 
however, is not without its exceptions. 

An inquiry of some importance pertaining to arrange- 
ment, is, whether the proposition to be supported, should in 
all cases precede the proof, or whether the proof should pre- 
cede the formal announcement of the proposition. Men 
usually assert their opinions, and then assign the reasons on 
which they are founded, and this, without doubt, is the best 
arrangement, unless special reasons exist for adopting some 
other. If what is asserted is likely, either from its being 
novel, or uncommon, or from its being opposed to the preju- 
dices of the reader, to disaffect him, and to prevent his due 
consideration of the arguments brought forward, it is better 
to depart from the general rule, and to defer the formal 
statement of the proposition maintained to the close. 

Another inquiry relates to the proper place for introduc- 
ing the refutation of objections. On this point, the general 
rule is given, that objections should be considered near the 
commencement of a composition. In this way, the preju- 
dices of opposers may be eradicated, and their minds left 
free to give full attention and due weight to the arguments 
advanced. Often, however, it is necessary to bring forward 
some views of the subject, preparatory to the examination 
of objections ; in these instances, their refutation is found in 
the midst, or deferred to the close of the composition. 

Transitions. 

Transitions from one part of a composition to another, 
are also important objects of attention. The general direo- 
4 



38 



ON THOUGHT 



tion is of:;en given, that transitions be natural and easy. By 
this it is meant, that they be in agreement with the com- 
mon modes of associating the thoughts. In argumentative 
writings, where the different parts are connected by a com« 
mon reference to some particular point, which they are de- 
signed to establish, this common relationship will be suffi- 
cient to prevent the transition from one argument to another 
from appearing unnatural and abrupt. Still, as has been 
intimated, there may be skill shown in the arrangement of 
the arguments, and one may appear to arise happily from 
another. But in writings which are not argumentative, 
much skill is often displayed in the transitions. With the 
design of exhibiting some happy instances of transitions 
and thus showing what is meant by their being natural and 
easy, I shall notice those in Goldsmith's Traveller, to which 
these epithets are often applied. His description of Italy 
closes with the mention of its inhabitants, feeble and de- 
graded, pleased with low delights and the sports of children 
The transition to the Swiss is thus made ; 

My soul, turn from them ; — turn we to survey 
Where rougher climes a nobler race display. 

The principle on which the transition is here made, is that 
of contrast. And since the mind is often wont to look at 
objects as opposed to each other, it naturally, in this way, 
passes from the Italians to the Swiss. 

The transition from Switzerland to France is thus made j 

Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast 

May sit like falcons, cowering on the nest : 

But all the gentler morals such as play 

Through life's more cultured walks, and charm the way 

These far dispersed, on timorous pinions fly, 

To sport and flutter in a kinder sky. 

To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, 

1 turn — and France displays her bright domain. 

In this instance, the transition, like that before mentioned, 



AS THE FOUNDATION OF GO( D WRITING. 39 

depends in part on the principle of contrast, but seems more 
immediately to rest on the accidental mention of the words 
kinder sky. Such accidental associations are frequent, espe- 
cially in familiar intercourse, and in the easy flow of the 
thoughts; and though they would not be approved in the 
grave discussion of a subject, in a descriptive epistle, which 
is the nature of the production we are examining, they strike 
us favorably. 

Resemblance, cause and effect, contiguity as to time or 
place, may be mentioned as other principles of association 
on .which transitions are often easily made. 

Conclusion. 

If it be of importance, that the attention be arrested at 
first by a well written introduction, and sustained by well 
connected and increasingly important arguments, it will be 
readily allowed, that a happy conclusion is no less desirable. 
[t is then that a decision is about to be made, and the mind 
of the readers should be left impressed with a favorable 
opinion of the writer, and with the justness and truth of 
what has been told him. Here then the writer should exert 
all his skill, and put forth all his powers. 

As an example of a well executed conclusion, the following 
passage, which is found at the close of an eulogy on Adams 
and Jefferson, may be cited ; 

" Their statues are men ■ living, feeling, intelligent, adoring man, 
oearing the image of his Maker; having the impress of divinity. 
Their monuments are the everlasting hills which they have clothed 
with verdure — their praises are sounds of health and joy, in valliea 
which they have made fruitful — to them incense daily rises,, in the 
perfumes of fragrant fields, which they have spread with cultivation 
— fair cities proclaim their glory — gorgeous mansions speak their 
munificence — their names are inscribed on the goodly habitations of 
men ; and on those hallowed temples of God, whose spires ever point 
to the heaven, which, we trust, has received them." 



40 ON THOUGHT, ETC. 



Narrative and Descriptive Writing. 

The directions given in this chapter en the management 
of a subject, refer principally to argumentative composition. 
We are not to expect in narrative writings the regular di- 
visions of a discourse, as in didactic and argumentative pro- 
ductions. Still there will be some prominent or leading 
event, and the different parts of the narrative will teni to 
exhibit it fully and clearly. These parts will be the circum- 
stances of the event, such as led to it, such as accompanied 
it, or such as follow from it ; and the writer will dwell upon 
them in proportion to their importance and connexion with 
his main design. Occasional reflections may also be made, 
and inferences drawn, and whatever can illustrate, or throw 
an interest around the principal event, will be introduced. 
As to transitions, they will often depend on the order of 
occurrences in the succession of time, or as one occurrence 
is accounted to be the cause of another. (Ex. iv.) 

In descriptive writing, it is the purpose of the writer, as 
has been stated, to place before the view of his readers some 
object or scene. In its design, it nearly resembles both his- 
torical and landscape painting, and there is a resemblance, 
too, in the particulars on which the successful exertion of 
each depends. A happy selection of circumstances is of im- 
portance. A few prominent traits, well chosen, and strongly 
exhibited, will produce a much better effect, than the enu- 
meration of many particulars. In this kind of writing, much 
is found, which is designed to assist the distinctness of the 
mind's conception, and when the writer dwells on different 
parts, it is with this purpose. The transitions, as in argu 
mentative writings, are often abrupt, and it is thought sufi> 
cient connexion, that the different parts tend to the same end. 
The narrative and descriptive are often found unitea. (Ex. v.) 



CHAPTER SECOND 



ON TASTE. 



Were men simply intellectual beings, and vveie it die 
»\ iy design of the writer to convey instruction to his readers, 
what has been said in the preceding chapter, would be all 
that is required, preparatory to the consideration of the qual» 
ities of a good style. But men have imagination, and are 
susceptible of emotions ; and it is often the purpose of the 
writer, to cause the imagination to be exercised, and emo- 
tions of various kinds to be excited. To give pleasure in 
this way, may be the immediate object of the writer, or 
he may seek to please his readers, merely to arrest their 
attention, increase the distinctness of their views, and favor- 
ably incline them to the reception of the opinions he com- 
municates. 

From this statement, the definite object of this and the 
following chapter may be learnt. It is to aid in judging of 
whatever is thus addressed to the imagination in connexion 
with certain emotions of which men are susceptible. To 
direct in all that thus pertains to the imagination and these 
emotions, is regarded as the office of Taste. Hence the 
nature of taste in general will first be considered. This will 
be followed by some account of what is implied by a literary 
taste, including an enumeration of those different properties 
in literary productions which are objects of its attention, 
4* 



42 ON TASTE. 



with such remarks and directions as may aid in its acquisi- 
tion and improvement. 

Definition of Taste. 

Tue decisions of taste are judgments passed on whatevel 
is designed to excite emotions of beauty, of grandeur or of 
sublimity. The power of thus judging is founded on the 
experience of emotions of the same class, and is called taste ■ 
and hence he who exercises this power successfully, is called 
a man of taste. By judgment, as the word is here used, I 
mean the determining of the fitness of particular causes for 
producing certain effects. The chemist would produce a 
mixture having certain properties, — a certain degree of hard- 
ness, a required color or taste. With this view he unites 
several simples ; and in selecting the simples that are to be 
united for producing the required mixture, and in determin- 
ing the quantity of each to be used, there is judgment. In 
the same manner, where taste is exercised, there is a certain 
effect to be produced, and in determining the fitness oi 
means for producing this effect there is judgment. 

For a full account of the emotions here mentioned, the stu- 
dent must be referred to works on the philosophy of the mind. 
But it is necessary, that a short statement of what is meant 
by them should here be given. 

If we reflect on the different emotions, of which we are 
conscious in the notice of actions and objects around us, we 
find that some of them are of a moral nature, and we speafe 
of the actions which excite them as virtuous or vicious. — - 
Other emotions are included under what are called the pas- 
sions, and we speak of the objects which excite them as ob- 
jects of desire or aversion — of fear or remorse, or of some 
other passion. We think also of such objects as affecting 
our happiness. But distinct, both from emotions of a moral 
nature, and from those included under the passions, there is 



ON TASTE. 43 



& third class of emotions, which is particularly referred to 
in the preceding definition of taste, and these will now be 
exhibited. 

When the sun goes down in the west, the surrounding 
clouds reflect to our view a rich variety of colors. We gaze 
on the splendid scene, and there is a pleasant emotion ex- 
cited in our minds. 

In reading the story of the two friends, Damon and 
Pythias, who were objects of the cruelty of Dionysius, we 
are struck with the closeness of their friendship ; and while 
we think on the fidelity of the returning friend, and on their 
mutual contest for death, a pleasing emotion arises in the 
mind. 

When examining Dr. Paley's reasoning in proof of the 
existence of the Deity, and observing how every part is 
brought to bear on the particular object in view, while one 
example after another gives additional strength to the argu- 
ment, we admire the skill of the reasoner and the perfection 
of his work, and in view of this skill and this finished work 
a grateful emotion arises in the mind. 

It will be observed in these examples, that the emotion 
excited is not strong, — that it is of a grateful kind, and 
that it may continue for some time. This is called an emo- 
tion of beauty. 

The traveller, when he stands on the banks of the Missis- 
sippi, and looks upon that noble river, flowing on with the 
power of collected waters, and bearing on its bosom the 
wealth of the surrounding region, is conscious of emotions, 
which, as they rise and swell within his breast, correspond 
to the scene on which he looks. 

Burke has given the following biographical notice of 
Howard the celebrated philanthropist. 

" He has visited all Europe, — not to survey the sumptu* 
ousness of palaces, or the stateliness of temples ; not to 



44 . ON TASTE 



make accurate measurements of the remains oi ancient 
grandeur ; not to form a scale of the curiosities of modern 
art, not to collect medals, or collate manuscripts; — but to 
dive into the depths of dungeons ; to plunge into the infec- 
tion of hospitals, to survey the mansions of sorrow and 
pain ; to take the gauge and dimensions of misery, depres- 
sion and contempt ; to remember the forgotten, to attend 
to the neglected, to visit the forsaken, and to compare and 
collate the distresses of all men in all countries. His plan is 
original ; and it is as full of genius, as it is of humanity. It 
was a voyage of discovery, a circumnavigation of charity." 

No one can read this passage, and not feel a high degree 
of admiration in view of the devotedness and elevation of 
Durpose it describes. 

When the orator stands up before collected thousands, 
and for an hour sways them at his will by the powers of his 
eloquence, who, in that vast throng, can regard the speaker 
before him and feel no admiration of his genius ? 

The emotions excited in these and similar instances, have 
been called emotions of grandeur. They differ from those 
of beauty in that they are more elevating and ennobling. 

Byron, in his description of a thunder storm in the Alps 
has the following passage : 

" Far along, 
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, 
Leaps the live thunder ! — not from one lone cloud, 
But every mountain now hath found a tongue ; 
And Jura answers through her misty shroud, 
Back to the joyous Alps who call to her aloud." 

Who in the midst of Alpine scenery could thus listen co 
the voice of the leaping thunder, and not start with strcng 
emotion '? 

We are told, that when Washington appeared before 
Congress, to resign his military power at the close of the 
war, " he was received as the founder and guardian of the 



ON TASTE. 45 



republic. They silently retraced the scenes of danger and 
distress, through which they had passed together. They 
recalled to mind the blessings of freedom and peace pur 
chased by his arm. Every heart was big with emotion 
Tears of admiration and gratitude burst from every eye." 

In the presence of this august assembly, the Commander 
in chief of the armies of the United States, after piously 
recounting the blessings, which divine providence had con- 
ferred on his country, and commending that country to the 
continued care of its Almighty Protector, advanced, and 
resigned the great powers, which had been committed to his 
trust. How much must this closing act have added to the 
deep interest of the scene ! 

We are told, that when Newton drew near to the close 
of those calculations, which confirmed his discovery of the 
laws, by which the planets are bound in their courses, he 
was so overwhelmed with emotion, that he could not pro- 
ceed, and was obliged to ask the assistance of a friend. No 
one can think of the mighty intellectual work that was 
then accomplished, and not feel as he did, an overpowering 
emotion. 

To the emotions excited in these last mentioned examples 
is applied the epithet sublime. They are less permanent 
than those of grandeur, but more thrilling and exalting. 

In these examples, the emotions which are excited, arise 
neither from a moral approbation of the objects or actions 
as virtuous, nor from a personal interest in them as affecting 
our happiness. How, then, are they excited 1 

The answers to this inquiry have been numerous. Some 
have said, that there is a distinct sense, which enables the 
mind to discern in objects something which is fitted to ex- 
cite emotions of taste, and which is suited to this purpose 
in the same manner as the sense of hearing is suited to 
gounds. Others have attempted to resolve the whole into 



46 ON TASTE 



the principle of the association of ideas, and have said, that 
in every instance where an emotion of the kind mentioned 
is excited, some associated thoughts connected with our 
happiness, are brought before the mind. Thus, in the sec- 
ond of the examples given, they would say, that the grate- 
ful emotion arises from the thought of our own past friend- 
ships, or of how much we should enjoy in the possession of 
a faithful friend. Others account for these emotions by 
referring them to what are called primary laws of our nature. 
So far as these emotions are excited in view of natural ob- 
jects and scenes, they say, that our Creator has so formed us 
and adapted us to the world in which we live, that the view 
of certain objects and scenes is fitted to excite in the mind 
certain corresponding emotions. — At the same time they 
allow, that much influence is to be ascribed to the principle 
of association. In reference tc works of art, another 
original principle is also recognized, which is called the 
love of fitness or adaptation. The last theory is that of 
Brown, and is the one now generally received. For a full 
explanation of it, the student is referred to his work on In- 
tellectual Philosophy. It is enough for my present purpose 
to have pointed out the class of emotions which comes under 
the cognizance of taste, and to have referred to some of the 
attempts to explain them. 

It will be observed, that the examples which are given, 
are drawn from three different classes of objects, natural, 
moral, and intellectual. But since, in the classification of 
emotions, as those of beauty, grandeur and sublimity, we 
obviously refer to the emotions as they exist in the mind, 
and not to the objects by which they are excited, this diver- 
sity in the exciting objects is not regarded. Neither is 
it of importance, that these different classes of emotions 
should here be separately considered. It is difficui in 
many cases to mark the transition from one to another, and 



ON TASTE. 47 



to decide whether the emotion excited be an emotion of 
beauty, of grandeur, or of sublimity. These three classes 
of emotions are alike objects of the attention of taste ; and 
the principles and rules established in reference to one class, 
admit of application to the others. Hence the attention is 
principally directed to emotions of beauty, and emotions of 
each class are sometimes called emotions of taste. 

I return now to the definition of taste. Every instance 
of judgment implies knowledge of those subjects, on which 
it is exercised. The chemist cannot form his mixture, thae 
shall possess certain required properties, without a knowl- 
edge of the properties of the several simples which are in- 
gredients. In those instances of judgment also which are 
included under taste, there is in the same manner knowl- 
edge implied ; but as this is the knowledge of emotions, 
and can be acquired only by experience, taste is said to be 
founded on the experience of past emotions. 

Though taste, in the definition which has now been ex- 
plained, is called judgment, it is not meant, that in the ex- 
ercise of taste, the mind is ordinarily conscious of delib- 
eration or of the balancing of reasons, as in some other in- 
stances of judgment. It is true, that this deliberation may 
be rapidly passed through in all instances, and in some, as 
in the case of the artist employed in designing and execut- 
ing his work, there may be a consciousness of the process 
But most frequently, judgment on objects of taste seems to 
be passed instantaneously. As the result of past experi- 
ence of emotions, certain principles seem fixed in the mind, 
and when taste is called into exercise, it is the immediate 
application of these principles to particular instances. The 
analogy is close between the exercise of taste in the works 
of the fine arts, and of taste, as the word is literally applied 
to the sense of taste. Take for example the case of wine? 
The wine merchant is able at once to decide as to the qual- 



48 



ON TASTE. 



lty of the wine presented to him, and to detect any foreign 
ingredient. He has acquired his ability to do this by past 
experience, and he brings the results of this past experi- 
ence, which seem to exist in his mind as certain fixed 
principles, to the particular instance in which bis judgment 
is required. 

Sensibility as connected with taste. 

From the definition that has been given of taste, we may 
learn in what way sensibility is connected with its attain- 
ment. By sensibility, is meant a high degree of suscepti- 
bility of the emotions of beauty. And since taste is founded 
on the experience of these emotions, sensibility, as thus de- 
fined, must aid in the formation of a good taste. It must be 
supposed, that so far as the emotions of beauty result from 
original tendencies of the mind to be pleased in view of 
certain objects, they are in some degree common to all 
men in their earliest years. But it is a well known fact re- 
specting all our emotions, that if neglected, they lose their 
strength, and if entirely disregarded, they will soon cease 
to be felt. On the contrary they are strengthened by being 
regarded and cherished. Hence it is, that while some men 
are susceptible of emotions of beauty in view of objects and 
scenes around them, others, the circumstances of whose 
life have been different, look upon the same objects and 
scenes without any emotion of this nature, i So far, too, as 
these emotions result from associated thoughts and feelings, 
there is an equal cause of diversity among different indi- 
viduals. One, from the scenes and events that have fallen 
under his observation, may have many associations connect 
ed with a particular object, which another may have nevei 
formed. 

These remarks admit of illustration. Addison, when he 



ON TASTE. 49 



went forth in the evening, and gazed upon the starry heav 
ens and the moon walking in her majesty, felt emotions ot 
sublimity. In accounting for the rise of these emotions, we 
might say, that he was a man of sensibility — from the ori- 
ginal constitution of his mind he was susceptible of emo- 
tions of taste to a high degree. His intellectual habits also, 
and the circumstances of his life, were such as to cherish 
and strengthen these original tendencies of his mind. As- 
tronomy had taught him something of the size and number 
and uses of these heavenly bodies ; and in this way, or in 
other ways, many associations were connected with them. 
On the same evening, perhaps, and in the same neighbor- 
hood, the laborer returning from his daily toil, looked upon 
the. same starry and moon-lit firmament, but felt no emotion 
of beauty or sublimity. Still this individual might have 
been originally constituted with as much sensibility as Ad- 
dison ; but such has been his lot in life, that this sensibility 
has been lost, and he thinks of the moon and stars only as 
lighting him homewards from his toil. 

Standard of taste. 

The inquiry here arises, whether a sensibility to emotions 
of beauty may not exist, and still the individual possessing it 
be destitute of good taste? And if this inquiry be answered 
in the affirmative, as it must be in accordance with facts, 
it may be still further asked, how this want of taste is con- 
sistent with the statement, that taste is founded on the ex- 
perience of emotions of beauty and sublimity ? The resolu- 
tion of this apparent difficulty brings to view what is termed 
the standard of taste. It is the case, as we have seen, 
that from the peculiar circumstances of individuals, their 
original tendencies to emotions of beauty may be per- 
verted and blunted, or strengthened and increased. The 
5 



50 ON TASTE. 



associations also connected with the same objects and scenes 
may be very different in different minds. From bcth of 
these causes, and from others not mentioned, the emotions, 
excited in the minds of different individuals in the view of 
the same objects, will differ, and consequently, their expe- 
rience as to past emotions will vary. In this way we ac- 
count for diversities of taste among individuals, and here is 
the ground of the maxim so often quoted, de gustibus non 
disputandum. But amidst all these diversities, there are 
some objects and scenes, which do uniformly excite emo- 
tions of beauty in the great majority of those, who have any 
degree of sensibility. And where there are cases of excep- 
tion, some sufficient reason may generally be assigned. In 
the assertion then that taste is founded on the experience 
of past emotions, reference is made to this common expe- 
rience, and not to the experience of individuals, or of any 
particular country or age. Hence then we infer, that the 
standard of taste is the agreeing voice of siich as are suscep- 
tible of emotions of beauty, both of those who lived in past 
ages, and of those now existing. 

To illustrate these remarks, I may refer the student to 
the statue of Washington, which has been recently placed 
in the metropolis of New England, and which represents 
him in the drapery of a Roman hero. Should it be asked, 
why he is thus represented, rather than in the dress, which 
as a military commander, or a civil leader, he was accus- 
tomed to wear 1 or in such attire as was used by military 
and civil leaders in Europe two hundred, or five hundred, 
years ago 1 it might be answered, that though such draper} 
might have been approved at the period when it was worn, 
and thus have been in agreement with the taste of the age 
at the present time it would appear unbecoming to the hu 
man form. But such is not the case with the Roman toga, 
This is a drapery, which at all times, and to all men, ap* 



ON TASTE. 51 



pears graceful and excites emotions of beauty. This fact, 
then, both proves, that there is a standard of taste, and illus- 
trates what is meant by it. 

Hence we learn one object and use of models of excel- 
lence in the fine arts. It is principally by means of these, 
that we obtain a knowledge of the standard of taste, or 
rather they are the standard, since in them the decisions of 
men in different periods and portions of the world are found 
embodied. To illustrate this by an example, I will refer to 
West's painting of Christ in the exercise of the charities. 
We know that th's painting was universally admired in 
England. It has been regarded with like admiration in 
this country. All those who are susceptible of emotions of 
taste, have felt these emotions when looking upon this pro- 
duction of art. Here, then, is found the united voice of 
men of the present age ; and the artist knows, that so far as 
his production exhibits what excites emotions of beauty in 
this painting, it is in agreement with the general opinion of 
men now living, or the standard of the taste of the age. 
Had this picture existed through successive ages, and been 
uniformly admired, this would give it higher authority, and 
the artist, in conforming his work to it, would know, that 
what he produces, is in agreement with the opinions of men 
of different ages of the world. He might then hope, that 
his work, being conformed to this general standard of taste, 
would please all men every where, and of every age, who 
are susceptible of emotions of beauty, and whose minds are 
not under the influence of some particular bias. In models 
of excellence, then, in the fine arts, is expressed the expe- 
rience of mankind respecting emotions of beauty; and in 
studying these models, the man of sensibility learns to cor- 
rect any peculiar influence which circumstances may have 
nad on his own emotions, and thus acquires a taste which w 
n conformity with the general standard of taste 



52 ON TASTE. 



Taste as affected by the intellectual habits. 

Taste, as it exists in different individuals, is affected by the 
intellectual character and habits. We might expect this ts 
he the case from the fact, that it implies discrimination, and 
that the same intellectual habits will be brought into exer- 
cise in judging of what is fitted to excite emotions of taste, 
as in those instances where judgments are formed on other 
subjects. It is in this way, that we may in part account for 
the diversities of taste in different individuals. He whose 
mind is enriched with various knowledge, and whose intel- 
lectual powers have been strengthened and improved, and 
who is wont to take large and comprehensive views of sub- 
jects, will manifest the greatness of his mind and the liber- 
ality of his views, in his judgment of what is fitted to excite 
an emotion of taste. He whose attention has been restricted 
to philosophical speculations, and who has been accustomed 
to reason with the precision of mathematical accuracy, will 
in like manner bring his habits of reasoning to subjects of 
taste, and will be less bold and more severe in his judgment 
of what is fitted to excite emotions of this kind. 

Locke and Burke are striking examples of the justness of 
these remarks. Locke was an accurate thinker, and a close 
reasoner. His judgment, where he forms an opinion, is 
based on careful and minute examination. Hence his taste 
was severe. He used but little ornament, and that simple 
and illustrative. Fearful also that it might betray him, he 
condemned the use of it in the writings of others. Burke, 
on the contrary, was a man of much refinement. He pos- 
sessed extensive classical attainments — had large and lib- 
eral views of subjects, and, susceptible to a high degree of 
emotions of taste, he was ever prone to indulge in the excite- 
ment of these emotions. But then he approved only of 



ON TASTE 



53 



what is truly beautiful and sublime, and his judgment of 
what is fitted to excite these emotions, evidently felt the 
influence of his enlarged and liberal views on other subjects, 
or, in other words, of his intellectual habits. 

Objects on which taste is exercised. 

Taste, as thus explained, employs itself in judging both 
of the objects and scenes in Nature, and of works in the 
Fine Arts, and in both cases it determines as to the fitness 
of what is presented before it to produce emotions of 
beauty. Suppose several individuals, who are susceptible 
of emotions of beauty, to be travelling through some region 
of our country, which presents a rich variety of natural sce- 
nery. One of them, in advance of the others, upon rising 
an eminence, is struck with the view opening before hinv 
and is led to exclaim as to the beauty of the prospect. The 
others, upon coming up, are impressed in the same manner. 
They declare the scene before them beautiful, and they 
unite in pronouncing him wr o first pointed it out, a man of 
taste. All that is meant by this expression is, that the indi- 
vidual to whom it is applied, is able, from his experience 
of past emotions, to form a judgment respecting the fitness 
of objects in natural scenery to produce emotions of beauty, 
which is in agreement with the general judgment of man- 
kind. 

Suppose further, that the same individuals, in the course 
of their journey, stop to examine a gallery of paintings. 
One of them, in looking round on the different pictures, se- 
lects a painting which he pronounces beautiful. The atten- 
tion of the others being called to it, they express the same 
opinion, and again they unite in calling the individual who 
has pointed out the painting, a man of taste. Here, as 
\n the former case, all that is imp! if d is, that the individual 
5* 



51 



ON TASTE. 



called a man of taste, is able to judge of the fitness of cer 
tain works of art to produce emotions of beauty. 

But let us now suppose, that instead of speaking of the 
individual who pointed out the painting to their notice, they 
are lad to speak of the work itself, and to call it a work of 
taste. This might be said of a work of art, though not of 
a scene in nature; for in this expression reference is evi* 
dently had to the artist by whom the work was executed, 
and we never think of the Creator as guided by taste in the 
work of creation. In this then, as in the preceding case, 
all that is implied is, that the artist has shewn by the design 
and execution of his work, that he is able to judge correctly 
as to the fitness of objects and scenes to produce emotions 
of beauty. But to shew more fully the nature of taste, and 
to point out its connexion with the imagination, I shall 
here describe the manner, in which it guides the artist in 
designing and executing his work ; and in doing this, I 
shall confine the attention to works in the art of Painting, 
since the mind conceives most eas ; ly and distinctly objects 
of sense. 

Connexion of taste with the imagination. 

Let us first suppose, that the scene or object represented 
by the painter, is an exact imitation of some scene or object 
in nature. In this case, we might be pleased with the work, 
and say that it discovers good taste. We might be pleased, 
because the original scene is one fitted to excite emotions 
of beauty, and we might ascribe good taste to the painter, 
from his having selected a scene of this kind to be repre- 
sented. Besides, v*e might be gratified with the skill that 
is shewn in the execution of the work. Emotions of beautj 
might be excited in view of the closeness of the imitation, 
*\ie justness of the coloring, and the truth of the perspective 



ON TASTE. 55 



and we might say, that taste has guided the artist in his ex- 
hibit ion of what are usually called secondary beauties of 
painting. 

But the most admired works in the arts of painting are not 
exact imitations. They are the creations of the painter, and 
have no archetype in nature. And it is in designing these 
original works, that the presence of taste is most needed, 
and her influence felt. 

To show in what way taste guides the artist in designing 
his work, I shall here introduce an account given by Cicero 
of the course pursued by Zeuxis, when employed by the 
Crotonians to paint the picture of a beautiful female. The 
city of Crotona was celebrated for the beauty of its females. 
Zeuxis requested, that those esteemed most beautiful might 
be assembled at the same place. From these he selected 
five, who in his estimation excelled all others in beauty, 
and by combining in his picture the most striking traits of 
beauty in each of these five, he executed the task assigned 
to him. 

Now in the whole of this process, taste was evidently the 
guide of the artist. The selection of the five most beautiful 
virgins, the choice of the most beautiful traits in each, are 
both instances of judgment, founded on the experience of 
past emotions. But this is only the preparation for his 
work. What has been thus selected must now be combined 
together, and so combined, as to produce one harmonious 
effect. Instead of an assemblage of beautiful limbs and 
features, an air and proportion must be given to the form, 
and a cast to the countenance. Here is exercise for the 
designing powers of the artist, and over this part of the 
work also taste must preside. Different modes of combina- 
ion present themselves before his " mind's eye," and of 
these different combinations, one is to be selected as most 
oeautiful. The making of this selection is evidently an in- 



56 ON TASTE. 



stance of judgment, founded on the experience of past emo 
tions of beauty. Zeuxis was familiar with forms of beauty j 
and had fixed in his mind those principles of judging 
which enabled him to decide with readiness and correct 
ness. Hence, no doubt, his celebrity as a painter of the 
female form. 

From this example, we learn, why the most admired pro- 
ductions of the painter are not exact representations of ob- 
jects and scenes in nature. In natural objects and scenes, 
that which is suited to excite emotions of beauty, is mingled 
with objects of indifference and disgust. The artist, under 
the guidance of taste, collects together these scattered frag- 
ments of beauty, and combining them in one view with har- 
monious effect, presents to us objects and scenes more 
beautiful than those which can be found in nature. 

But it is by no means the case, that the artist is confined 
to objects and scenes of nature for the materials of these 
new combinations. It is here that the office of imagination 
and its connexion with taste, may be seen. By this faculty 
of the mind, the objects of past sensations are modified and 
combined anew, and images of objects and scenes, that exist 
only in this airy creation, rise up before our view. But 
while gazing on these visionary things, the same grateful 
emotions of beauty are excited, as when the objects before 
us have more of reality. Hence, when the artist would 
represent to us a scene, which shall strongly excite our 
emotions of beauty, he calls in imagination to his aid. She 
brings to his view a bright assemblage of forms of beauty. 
She presents them in different lights ; combines and modifies 
them variously. And while these shifting scenes are flitting 
before him, he selects, under the guidance of taste, the most 
beautiful forms and happiest combinations, and fixes them on 
the canvass for our view. 

From these united efforts of imagination and taste, the 



ON TASTE. 57 



artist presents to us models of excellence, superior to what 
can be found in the works of nature, or in the productions 
of artists that have preceded him. By the efforts of genius, 
he is enabled to make such combinations as others have 
never made; and taste, by exercising itself in the study of 
these visions of the mind, reaches a degree of perfection, to 
which it could never have attained in the study of existing 
models, or of the scenes of nature. But if imagination thus 
assists in the cultivation and improvement of taste, taste in 
return repays the assistance of imagination, by acting as 
director in the new creations which she forms. Imagina- 
tion might be furnished with a thousand different forms of 
beauty, as the materials of her work, and unite them in ten 
thousand different combinations; but without taste to pre- 
side and direct, she could never reach that harmoniousness 
of effect, that unity of expression, to which nature often 
attains. 

Value of models of excellence in the arts. 

From this analysis of the manner in which works in the 
fine arts are produced, the assistance, which the artist must 
derive from the study of models of excellence in the arts, 
may be learnt. Here he sees presented before him, the 
representations of those beautiful forms of nature, the knowl- 
edge of which, without this assistance, he could have ob- 
tained only by frequent and tedious processes of observation 
and analysis. The beau ideal is delineated to his view, and 
he forms his taste from the contemplation of perfect forms 
of beauty, instead of those imperfect forms where beauty 
is mingled with deformity. He sees also the most happy 
combinations of these forms. He has before him the results 
which others have made, and is th is placed in advance of 



58 



ON TASTE. 



those who are not favored with similar means of improve 
ment. 

The man, who is thus permitted to form his taste from 
models of excellence around him, may be said to exist in 
a new creation. He lives where the sun sheds a brightei 
day, where the clouds are skirted by more brilliant colors, 
and where nature's carpet shews a richer green. Angelic 
forms are about him. He ever stands on some chosen spot, 
and each new scene that presents itself, gives but a varied 
hue to the emotion of beauty that he feels. 

Explanation of the word Picturesque. 

We may learn also in this connexion, and by the aid oi 
the principles which have been stated, what is meant, when 
it is said of some countries, that they present scenes more 
picturesque than those found in others. This epithet, when 
applied to natural scenery, relates primarily and principally 
to the harmoniousness of effect produced on the mind, and 
implies such a prominence and combination of objects as 
give an expression or character to the scene. Nature seems 
in such instances to perform that work of combination, 
which, when represented to us on canvass by the skilful 
painter, we say he has designed by the aid of imagination 
and taste. The view may or may not present surpassing 
forms of beauty. We look not at objects individually, but 
regard them as grouped together and exerting a combined 
influence. Neither is it implied that the prospect is exten- 
sive, and that it embraces numerous and varied objects, 
On the contrary, picturesque scenes are most frequently 
those of limitei extent, and which contain but few prorai 
nent parts. 



ON TASTE. 59 



Revolutions in Taste. 

On the principles which have been stated in this chapter, 
the revolutions of taste may be easily explained. As pecu- 
liar circumstances have their influence on the tastes of dif- 
ferent individuals, so the manners and customs and peculiar 
circumstances of different ages, exert their influence on the 
aste of these ages. The power of these adventitious cir- 
cumstances is so great, that what in one age is esteemed and 
pronounced beautiful, in a succeeding age of more refine- 
ment, is regarded with disgust. Still it is true, that in this 
case, as in the diversities of the taste of individuals, there 
are some works of art, which rise superior to the influence 
of these accidental causes, and wherever they are known, 
«xcke emotions of beauty. 

Different qualities of taste explained 

1 shall close this account of taste in general with a short 
explanation of the qualities, which are most frequently 
ascribed to it. These are three ; Refinement, Delicacy, and 
Correctness. 

We speak of Refinement of taste in reference to different 
ages and different periods in the life of an individual. It 
implies a progress, so that what is pleasing in one age, or 
one period of life, is not so in another. The sculptured mon« 
ument, which in the early ages of a country is regarded with 
admiration and called beautiful, at a later period is unheeded, 
or considered rude and unsightly. — The pictures, which 
in our childish years we gazed upon with pleasure, at a 
more mature time of life, are passed by with neglect. Thia 
difference in the feelings with which the same object is 
regarded at different oeriods, is found connected with differ 



60 



ON TASTE. 



ent acbances that have been made in knowledge, and in the 
cultivation and refinement of the intellectual powers. The 
emotion of pleasure, felt by the ignorant and half-civilized 
man when gazing on some rude monument or unsightly 
picture, is of the same nature as that felt by the man of 
knowledge and refinement, while viewing a finished work of 
sculpture or of painting. But the latter has become habit- 
uated to the exhibition of skill in the works of art. He has 
become familiar with monuments and paintings, that are 
better in their design and execution, than those that have 
been seen by the former ; and hence it is, that the production 
of the artist, which at an earlier period of life would have 
excited emotions of beauty, is now disregarded. Refine 
ment in taste, then, denotes a progress in the knowledge of 
what is excellent in works of art, and results from the study 
of models of excellence. 

Delicacy of taste implies a quick and nice perception of 
whatever is fitted to excite emotions of beauty. He who 
possesses it, will detect beauties both of design and execu- 
tion, which pass unnoticed by common men ; and when 
others pronounce a scene beautiful from the general effect 
•on their minds, he will discover and point out all that tends 
to the production of this effect. This quality of taste results 
from a habit of careful and minute observation, joined with 
a quick susceptibility of emotions of beauty. It is also most 
frequently found in connection with moral purity of feeling, 
and in its common acceptation, is sometimes used as opposed 
to what is indelicate. 

Correctness of taste evidently refers to an agreement with 
some standard. What this standard is, has been already 
shewn. It is the agreeing voice of those, who, from their 
experience of past emotions, are able to form a judgment on 
what is fitted to excite emotions of beauty. He, then, who 
has correctness of taste, feels and judges, in reference to 



ON TASTE. 61 



objects which come under the cognizance of taste, in agree 
ment with he only true standard of taste. 

Different uses of the word Taste. 

It will at once be seen, that in the preceding account of 
taste, the word is used in a sense, different from that often 
applied to it in its common acceptation. We speak of a 
tayCe for some particular occupation, for some amusement or 
study, when all that is meant to be expressed, is, that there 
is a fondness, or inclination of the mind, for the pursuit, and 
the word fondness or inclination would better convey our 
meaning. It must be obvious to all, that the rhetorical use 
of the word is quite different. 

The definition here given of taste is also different from 
that found in Blair's Lectures on Rhetoric, which, as a text 
book, is in most frequent use. He defines taste to be the 
power of receiving pleasure or pain from the beauties or de- 
formities of nature and art. The definition which has been 
given of it in this chapter, makes it of a more discriminating 
principle. It implies, that the man of taste is able to discern 
what in nature and art is fitted to excite this feeling of pleas- 
ure and pain, while the power of receiving this pleasure is 
called sensibility. That there is ground for this distinction, 
is evident from the fact already stated, that some men are 
highly susceptible of emotions of beauty, who, at the same 
time, are utterly destitute of good taste. 

Technical Taste. 

Neither is it the case, that in all instances where the 

word taste is used, reference is had to the standard, which 

has been stated in this chapter to be the true standard of 

taste. A man is sometimes called a man of taste, when his 

6 



62 



ON TASTE 



judgment extends no further than to a decision, whether in 
any particular production, or performance, the rules of ha 
art ha\3 been observed. This may be illustrated in the 
case of an epic poem. Aristotle has fully and with precision 
laid down the rules, according to which this species of writ- 
ing should be composed, deriving them from Homer, the 
great master of the art. It is evident, that one, who jas 
made himself familiar with these rules, may sit in judgment 
on the ^Eneid of Virgil, and the Paradise Lost of Milton. 
With his line and his compass, he may take the dimensions 
of an Epic Poem, as readily and easily as of a building. In 
fact, he does nothing more than apply to the work he exam- 
ines, the measures which have been taken from some other 
work that has been admired, and in this way decide as to 
the merits of the poem. This is the lowest kind of criti- 
cism, and he who exercises it, may be called a man of 
technical taste. 

Taste of Comparison. 

It is also sometimes the case, that the productions of some 
admired author, or artist, are the standard, to which all 
attempts of the same nature must be brought. The admirer 
of Byron, whose mind is filled with his delightful horrors, 
and who is wont to admire his master-strokes of passion, in 
examining the productions of other poets, will pronounce on 
their excellence, from their comparative effect on his own 
mind, and will approve or condemn, as they agree with those 
of this great master of the art. This may be distinguished 
as the taste of comparison. It is often found among those, 
who devote their time to visiting galleries of paintings, and 
other collections of works in the fine arts. This kind of 
taste is a source of enjoyment to its possessor, and is often 
found united with merit as an author or artist. Some men 



ON TASTE. 63 

succeed better, when they take the taste of another for their 
guide, than when they rely on their own. — " Velles eum suo 
ingenio dixisse, alieno judicio." * 

Philosophical taste. 

But the man of taste, in the true use of the word, does not, 
like the mere critic of technical skill, only apply the rules ol 
his art. Neither, in forming his decisions, does he bring 
every object of which he judges, to some favorite standard 
of excellence. Truth and nature are the models which he 
has studied, and he has found them alike in the objects of 
creation around him, in the scenes of real life, and in the 
creations of genius. Like Numa of old, he has his Egeria 
in the woods, and after holding high converse with this mys- 
terious revealer of the secrets of nature, he comes forth to 
the world, and discloses, as if by inspiration, the principles 
of the empire of taste, and the laws of her dominion. To him 
belongs the prophetic eye of taste. He can not only decide 
with correctness on the scene spread before him, but sur- 
veying the visions of his own mind — the scenes that exist 
only in the world of imagination, "he can anticipate with un- 
erring certainty their beauty and effect. There is also an un- 
changing uniformity in the decisions of philosophical taste, 
Even the eternal principles of morality are not more fixed 
and determinate. What met the approbation of the man of 
philosophical taste two thousand years ago, meets the appro- 
bation of the man of philosophical taste now, and will con- 
tinue to be thus admired till the end of time. On ihis prin- 
ciple duinctilian has said, " Ule se profecisse sciat, cui Cice~ 
ro valde placebit."i On this principle Homer, and Virgil, 

* You commend the genius of the writer, but prefer, that it should 
be guided by another's taste, rather than by his own 

t Whoever can discern the excellences of Cicero, may hence learn 
that he has himself made proficiency as an orator. 



64 ON TASTE. 



and Demosthenes, and Cicero, have been admired, wherevei 
they have been known. Here also is the only foundation of 
hope to the aspirant after literary immortality. 

The Fine Arts are so closely connected with the subject 
of taste, that I subjoin to this chapter a short account of 
what is meant by them. 

The Fine, Elegant, or Polite Arts, for these epithets ire 
synonymous, are so called in distinction from the Useful 
Arts. The former are designed to please ; the latter aim 
at the supply of human wants. It is true, that works in the 
useful arts may be so constructed as to please, at the same 
time that they subserve our necessities. And on the other 
hand, works that please and are designed to please, may be 
useful. 

Hence it may be difficult in regard to some productions 
in the arts, to say to which they belong, the Useful, or the 
Elegant ; still there is ground for the distinction that has 
been made, and according to the design — to please, or to be 
useful, we say that some arts are elegant and others useful. 

Of the Fine Arts, somp are imitative, and others symbol- 
ical. Some exhibit r\n exact representation of the object 
or scene they would present before the mind ; such are 
Painting and Sculpture. These are called imitative fine 
arts. Others make use of signs which have been agreed upon 
among men fox the representation of objects ; such' as Music 
and Poetry. These, in distinction from the former, may be 
sailed symbolical fine arts. 

It has been stated, that the design of works in the fine 
Lrts, is to please. This may be effected in two different 
ways. Tiie object or scene brought before the mind, may 
be such as is suited to excite grateful emotions, or the mind 
may be pleased with the skill that is shown in the execution 
of the work. In the former case, when the Dbject or scene 



ON TASTE. 65 



represented has no original in nature, but is a creation of 
.he artist's mind, while we regard the object of the work, 
and notice how the different parts of it tend to the promo- 
tion of this object, we are said to observe the primary beau- 
ties, or the beauties of design. But whether the scene or 
object represented be an exact copy of some original in na- 
ture, or a creation of the artist's, if the attention is directed 
only to the skill shewn in the execution of the work, we are 
said to observe secondary beauties, or the beauties of exe- 
cution. The art of writing or composition, whether elegant 
or useful, is one of the symbolical arts. There is no exact 
imitation of what is designed to be brought before the mind, 
but objects and scenes are represented by words as symbols. 
This must evidently increase the difficulty of the artist, cr 
writer ; for though he may have in his own mind distinct 
views of what is fitted to excite emotions of taste, and may 
connect these views with the signs which he uses, yet, if the 
reader do not attach the same views to the signs used, they 
will fail to excite in his mind the emotion* designed to be 
produced. Much then will depend upon the skill with which 
these signs are used, and hence it is, that in literary produc- 
tions, so much attention is paid, with the design of pleasing, 
to the execution of the work. 

We may here also see a reason, why the beauties of de- 
sign in literary productions, are said to be addressed to the 
imagination of the readers. As we have seen in the last 
chapter, it is by the aid of the imagination that the artist is 
able to design those objects and scenes, which are the crea- 
tions of his own mind. When these creations have been 
formed, they are represented by the signs that are used. 
Now it is obviously the imagination of the reader, which must 
interpret these signs. They are intended to set his imagina- 
tion in exercise, and to cause it to present before the mind 
in object or scene, similar to that which the writer had in 
6* 



66 ON TASTE 



view when i sing these signs ; and if the reader have n<s 
powers oflmagina/ion, the attempt of the writer to place be- 
fore him a scene fitted to excite grateful emotions will be 
vain. 

It is an easy inference from what has been said in this 
chapter, that the cultivation and improvement of taste in the 
several fine arts, will be promoted by a familiarity with mod- 
els of excellence in those arts. He who would cultivate a 
taste for painting, or music, or fine writing, will seek aftei 
the works of those who excel in these different departments 
But it may here be remarked generally in respect to taste, 
that it is improved by whatever gives enlargement and im- 
provement to the mind. Taste, as judgment, calls into ex- 
ercise various intellectual faculties ; comparisons are to be 
instituted, inferences to be made, and conclusions to be 
drawn ; and the more perfectly this work is performed, the 
higher is the order of taste possessed. Education, then, 
furnishing mental discipline, and accustoming the mind to 
processes of analysis and investigation, s conducive to the 
improvement of the taste. And since, as has been stated, 
much that comes under the cognizance of taste is addressed 
to the imagination, especially in the symbolical fine arts, the 
cultivation of this faculty of the mind will conduce to the 
same result 



CHAPTER THIRD 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 



**< * vai*\ taste is the judgment of whatever of a literary 
nature w designed to excite emotions of beaut v, grandeur 
and sublimity, founded upon the past experience of emo- 
ions of the same kind. It is the object of this chapter to 
explain the nature of literary taste as thus denned, and to 
offer, in connexion with examples, such directions and cau- 
tions as may aid in its improvement. The word literature 
is most frequently used in distinction from science. In 
this sense, it refers to certain classes of writing. Such are 
Poetry and Fictitious Prose, Historical, Epistolary and Essay 
writing. On the other hand, a treatise on Optics or Electri- 
city, or a work on Intellectual Philosophy, is classed under 
the head of science. In examining this division, we find 
that those works are classed under the head of literature, in 
which it is a leading object of the writer to interest and 
please the mind by the mode of exhibiting objects ana 
scenes to its view ; while those, which are designed only 
to elucidate and establish principles in any branch of knowl- 
edge, or to give exercise to the reasoning powers, are de- 
nominated science. 

There is however a more extended scene, in wnich tha 
word literature is used. It is often intended to refer mcr©» 



68 ON LITERARY TASTE. 



ly to the use of won. N as a mode of exhibiting the thoughts 
and views of the mina, and thus embraces all that is com- 
mitted to letters, In tnis sense of the word, we migln 
speak of Euclid's Elements of Geometry as a literary work ; 
and say of the literature of any particular age, that it is of 
a scientific kind. 

As it is not the object of this part of the work to direct 
the attention of the student to particular classes of literary 
productions, I shall here consider the word literature as used 
m its most extensive sense, and consequently, in treating of 
attempts of a literary kind to excite emotions of taste, 1 shall 
refer to what is more particularly connected with the style. 

If now we examine the various classes of literary produc- 
tions, we find attempts to excite emotions of taste which 
are common in some degree to all. Such are well chosen 
words, well turned expressions and happy illustrations. 
These are called the ornaments of style, and though not 
essential to the communication of the writer's thoughts, 
they are often highly useful. They allure and fix the atten- 
tion, and aid in the full and clear exhibition of what is com- 
municated. 

Of these ornaments of style, some have been classified, 
and have received appropriate names. Such are Similes, 
Metaphors, Allusions and Personifications; others are of a 
more incidental nature. The former will be examined in 
the present chapter ; of the latter, some mention will be 
made, when treating of the different qualities of style. 

Before entering upon the examination of the classified or- 
naments of style, I wish to bring distinctly to view the dif- 
ferent principles, on which these attempts to excite emo- 
tions of taste are founded. In this way, the student will be 
enabled more fully to understand the reasons of the differen 
directions and cautions which may be given, and tc discern 
more clearly the nature an-1 objects of litei<*ry taste. 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 



It was stated in the last chapter, that from the original 
constitution of the human mind, we are fitted to feel emo- 
tions of beauty and sublimity in view of objects and scenes 
in nature. A passage of descriptive writing will enable me 
to illustrate what is here meant. 

The following description of the rising sun is taken from 
one of Gray's Letters. 

" I set out one morning before five o'clock, the moon shining 
through a dark and misty autumnal air, and got to the sea-coast, 
time to be at the sun's levee. I saw the clouds and dark vapors open 
gradually to the right and left, rolling over one another in great smoky 
vvreaths, and the tide (as it flowed in on the sands) first whitening, 
and then slightly tinged with gold and blue, and all at once a little 
line of insufferable brightness, that before I can write these five words 
is grown to half an orb, and now a whole one, too glorious to be dis- 
tinctly seen." 

This is a representation of a scene in nature, and the 
writer, in looking on this scene, felt an emotion of gran- 
deur. Should it be asked, why this emotion is thus ex- 
cited, the only cause to be assigned is, that it is natural 
to us to feel this emotion in view of this and similar scenes. 
Our Creator has so constituted us. Should we now further 
inquire, why the description of the scene excites an emo- 
tion of the same kind in the minds of its readers, we have 
to assign in answer the same cause. The writer addresses 
himself to the imagination of his readers, and by the use of 
words as symbols brings the scane distinctly before their 
minds, and an emotion of giandeur is excited in view of it 
as thus described, on the same principle, as when this emo- 
tion was excited in view of the original. Now this is often 
done, when the ornaments of style are introduced. A word, 
or an illustration, brings before the mind an object or scene, 
whish from the original constitution of our miiid, excites an 
emotion of beauty or sublimity. This principle then in thff 



70 ON LITERARY TASTE 

original constitution of the human mind is to be considered 
as one of those principles, to which the writer addresses him 
self, with the design of exciting emotions of taste. 

It was still further stated, that emotions of beauty ant- 
sublimity, are often excited on the principle of association 
Objects and scenes, which are not fitted from any origina 
tendencies of the mind to excite these emotions, may stil* 
excite them from (Vir being associated in our minds with 
what is thus regard ^; or where they are fitted to excite 
these emotions in some degree, they may excite them in a 
higher degree, because of such associations. The traveller, 
in passing the river Rubicon, might regard it as a common 
stream ; but should it be told him, that he is standing where 
Ceesar stood, when he decided the destinies of Rome, the 
scene before him from association excites ai_ emotion of 
sublimity. Here then is another principle, to which the 
writer addresses himself in the introduction of the ornaments 
of style, with the design of exciting emotions of taste. He 
brings before us that which from association is fitted to excite 
in our minds an emotion of beauty or sublimity. 

On the principles which have been stated, the ornaments 
of style may excite emotions of taste distinct from their con- 
nexion, as found in a literary production, and as tending to 
the accomplishment of the design of the writer. Regarding 
them in this latter view, another ca^ise of the emotions of 
taste which they are fitted to excite, is brought to notice. I 
refer to what is called fitness or adaptation. 

When we look at any work of art, a piece of cabinet 
work for example, we may think of it in relation to some 
purpose which it is designed to answer, and from perceiving 
that it is admirably well adapted to answer this purpose, we 
may on this account regard it with admiration. We may 
still further examine it as to the proportion of its parts, theii 
fitness to the whole work, and the skill with which they art 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 71 

formed and arranged; and in this view of the work we 
may feel a similar emotion. Thus we are led to pronounce 
the work beautiful. Now in these instances, we feel an 
emotion of beauty in view of fitness or adaptation. Should 
it be asked, why the emotion is felt, it must, as before, be 
referred to a primary law of our nature. We can only say, 
thai our Creator has so constituted us. As it is highly im- 
portant that the student should clearly understand this prin- 
ciple, and as it is the foundation of the rules by which we 
judge of descriptive writing, I shall attempt its more full 
development in connection with illustrations of this kind. 1 
would remark, however, that it is not my design to state the 
rules and principles which apply to descriptive writing, any 
further than is necessary for the illustration of the principle 
of adaptation, which is now to be explained. 

The following passage forms part of the description of a 
fatal contest between two Highlanders, who encountered 
each other on a narrow and dangerous pass. 

" They threw their bonnets over the precipice, and advanced with a 
slow and cautious step closer to each other ; they were both unarmed, 
and stretching their limbs like men preparing for a desperate struggle, 
they planted their feet firmly on the ground, compressed their lips, 
knit their dark brows, and fixing fierce and watchful eyes on each 
other, stood there prepared for the onset. They both grappled at the 
same moment ; but being of equal strength, were unable for some 
time to shift each other's position, — standing fixed on a rock with 
suppressed breath, and muscles strained to the ' top o° their heart, 
like statues carved out of the solid stone." 

The object of the writer in this massage, is to piace before 
us a distinct view of the combatants as they entered on the 
contest; and in answer to the inquiry, why the passage 
strikes us favorably, and, as a description, excites an emotion 
of beauty, I would assign as a cau t e, he adaptation of the 
description to this design. We admh it because both the 
selection and arrangement of circumstances, and the use of 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 



words, are such as to bring the scene directly and clear y 
before the view. Here then is one instance, where an emo 
tion of beauty is excited in view of fitness or adaptation to a 
particular design, and that design is the distinct and striking 
representation of a scene. 

The accurate and vivid delineation of objects and scenes 
here exemplified, is sometimes called truth to nature. The 
representation of common and familiar scenes in this way 
excites emotions of beauty ; but the power of truth to nature 
is most deeply felt, when the writer lays open to our view 
the hidden workings of the mind, and the strong affections 
of the heart. That the student may more fully understand 
what is meant by the phrase, " truth to nature," which is of 
frequent occurrence, I here introduce two passages, which 
happily illustrate its meaning, — one a description of a fa- 
miliar scene ; the other, of the affections. 

The following description of a country inn is from Gold 
smith's Deserted Village. 

Imagination fondly stoops to trace 
The parlor splendors of that festive place , 
The white-washed wall, the nicely-sanded floor, 
The varnished clock that ticked behind the door; 
The chest contrived a double debt to pay, 
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ; 
The pictures placed for ornament and use, 
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ; 
The hearth, except when winter chilled the day, 
With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay ; 
While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, 
Ranged o'er the chimnev, glistened in a row. 

Mrs Hemans thus describes a mother's love ; 

There is none 
In all this cold and hollow world, no fount 
Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that within 
A mother's heart. You ne'er made 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 73 



Your breast the pillow of his infancy, 

While to the fulness of your heart's glad heavings 

His fair che'jk rose and fell ; and his bright hair 

Waved soit'.y to your breath ! — You ne'er kept watch 

Beside him, till the last pale star had set, 

And morn, all dazzling, as in triumph broke 

On your dim, weary eye ; not yours the face 

Which, early faded through fond care for him, 

Hung o'er his sleep, and duly, as heaven's light, 

Was there to greet his wakening ! You ne'er smoothed 

His couch, ne'er sung him to his rosy rest, 

Caught his least whisper when his voice from yours 

Had learned soft utterance ; pressed your lip to his, 

When fever parched it ; hushed his wayward cries, 

With patient, vigilant, never-wearied love ! 

No ! these are woman's tasks ! 

The following example is taken from Everett's description 
of the Pilgrim Fathers on their voyage to Americs. 

" I see them driven in fury before the raging tempest, on the higil 
and giddy waves. The awful voice of the storm howls through the 
rigging. The laboring masts seem straining from their base ; — the 
dismal sound of the pumps is heard ; the ship leaps as it were madly 
from billow to billow ; — the ocean breaks and settles with engulfing 
floods over the floating deck, and beats with deadening, shivering 
weight, against the staggered vessel.'' 

The design of the writer in this passage, is to excite emo 
tion in the minds of his readers. He would have them 
shudder in view of the dangers, by which the frail bark he 
describes is encompassed, and regard with deep commisera- 
tion the noble adventurers it bears. If now we notice the 
circumstances which make up the description, as they tend 
to this design of the writer, we may learn at once, why the 
passage, as a description, excites our admiration. The 
" howling voice of the storm," " the straining of the masts," 
**the dismal sound of the pumps," "the leaping of the ship," 
"the overflowing of the deck," and " the deadening shock 
7 



74 ON LITERARY TASTE. 

of the ocean," all tend to impress the mind most deeply with 
horror at the scene, and with commiseration for those who 
were exposed to its dangers. 

I give one example more, in which it is the design <sf the 
writer to excite emotions of a ludicrous nature. It is Tr- 
ving's description of Ichabod Crane. 

* s He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long 
arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that 
might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely 
hung together. His head was small, and flat at top, with large ears, 
large green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like 
a weather-cock perched upon his spindle neck, to tell which way 
the wind blew. To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a 
windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one 
might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon 
the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield." 

Now there is no one, who, in reading this passage, does 
not admire it as a description. And any one, in assigning 
the reason of his admiration, would at once pronounce it a 
fine description, because all the circumstances mentioned 
tend so admirably to the design of the writer. 

The examples which have been stated and examined, are 
amply sufficient to illustrate and establish the position, that 
in descriptive writing emotions of beauty may be excited in 
view of adaptation to a particular design. 

I now wish to exhibit this same principle differently ap- 
plied. I would show, that an emotion of beauty may be 
excited in view of the fitness or adaptation of the different 
parts of a description to the whole. For this purpose I 
introduce the following passage : 

" 1 he sun gradually wheeled his broad disk down into the west 
The wide bosom of the Tappaan Zee lay motion. ess and glassy 
excepting that here and there a gentle undulation waved and pro 
longed the blue shadow of the distant mourtain A few ambei 



ON LITERARY TASTE. /5 



elouds floated in the sky, without a breath of air to move them. 
The horizon was of a fine golden tint, changing gradually into a 
pure apple gn;en, and from that into the deep blue of the mid-heaven. 
A slanting ray lingered on the woody crests of the precipices that 
overhung some parts of the river, giving greater depth to the dark 
blue and purple of their rocky sides. A sloop was loitering in the 
distance, dropping slowly down with the tide, her sail hanging use- 
lessly against the mast ; and as the reflection of the sky gleamed 
along the still water, it seemed as if the vessel was suspended in 
the air." 

Now in answer to the inquiry, v:hy this description is re- 
garded with emotions of beauty, it may at once be said, that 
the scene itself is one fitted to excite emotions of this kind, 
and also, that it is most clearly exhibited to our view. But 
in looking at the different circumstances which make up 
the description, it may be still further noticed, that they all 
correspond with each other, — they are of like importance, 
and produce a similar effect on the mind. The " glassy- 
bosom of the lake," — the " amber clouds," — the " varying 
tints of the horizon," — the " light and shades on surrounding 
objects," and the becalmed vessel, apparently " suspended in 
the air," are prominent objects in the scene, each worthy 
of notice, and each producing a similar effect on the mind. 
That the emotion of beauty felt in reading this description, 
is to be ascribed in part to the correspondence and fitness of 
the several parts, may be made evident, if we attempt to in- 
troduce an object of a different nature. Suppose that after 
mentioning the clouds floating in the sky, the writer had said, 
— the Dutch farmers were driving home their cows from 
pasture, who would not say at once, that the beauty of the 
description is gone? An emotion of beauty may then be 
excited in view of the fitness of the parts of a description to 
the whole, on the same principle, as in view of the fitness of 
the whole to some particular design. 

The application of the principle of fitness or adaptation 



76 ON LITERARY TASTE. 

in accounting for emotions of taste, may be carried stiL 
further. From the different circumstances of a description, 
we may proceed to notice the words, and we shall find 
that part of the effect of passages of descriptive writing, as 
fitted to excite emotions of taste, is to be ascribed to what 
is usually called the happy choice of words, or the choice 
of those words which are best suited to the design of the 
writer. In the examples already given, we have full illustra- 
tion of the correctness of this statement. I would direct 
the attention particularly to that where the writer says, 
the ocean beats with " deadening, shivering weight, against 
the staggered vessel." How much of the beauty of this 
part of the description is to be ascribed to the choice of the 
epithets here used ! To be persuaded of this, we have only 
to make some alteration in this respect, to substitute one 
word for another, and the charm is broken. Had the writer 
just quoted said, The ocean beats with a stupefying, shocking 
weight, against the shattered vessel, who, in reading the de- 
scription, would have felt an emotion of beauty 1 

If, in what has now been stated in connexion with pas- 
sages of descriptive writing, the student has been led fully 
to understand what is meant by fitness or adaptation, and 
to see, that it may be regarded as one of those principles on 
which are founded attempts to excite emotions of taste, the 
design of their introduction has been answered. It will be 
shewn in the examination of the ornaments of style, that, 
whether we regard them only as parts of the literary produc- 
tion in which they are found, or look on them as tending to 
produce some designed effect, we may in part account for the 
emotion of taste which they excite, on this same principle 
of adaptation. 

I have thus brought to view three distinct principles, on 
which are founded attempts on the part of the writer to ey- 
cite emotions of taste in the minds of his readers. They 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 77 

are as follows; 1. Primary laws or original tendencies of our 
natures. 2. Association. 3. P'itness or adaptation. Full 
opportunity for illustration is found in the remaining part of 
the chapter. 

In examining the classified ornaments of style, I begin 
with the Simile or Formal Comparison. 

Example 1, — "Wit and humor are like those volatile essences, 
which, being too delicate to bear the open air, evaporate almost as 
soon as they are exposed to it." 

In this example, as in all instances of the Formal Com- 
parison, different objects are brought together, and the re- 
semblance which they bear to each other is formally stated. 
My design, in its introduction, is to shew the student the 
kind of resemblance on which the Comparison is founded. 
It will at once occur to him, that wit and humor are in their 
nature different from volatile essences. The latter are per- 
ceived by one of the senses ; the former exist only in the 
mind. Still there is a resemblance between them as they are 
here viewed, and it is a resemblance which is discerned with 
pleasure. Had the wit and humor of one man been com- 
pared with the wit and humor of another, we might have de- 
rived information from the comparison ; but the effect upon 
us as a pleasing comparison would have been unfelt. It is 
the unexpectedness of the resemblance which pleases us. 
Hence then we inter the caution, that the resemblance on 
which the Simile or Formal Comparison is founded, should 
not be too obvious. 

Example 2. — " The minds of the aged are like the tomos to which 
they are approaching; where, though the brass and the marble remain, 
yet the inscriptions are effaced by time, and the imagery has moul- 
dered away." 

This beautiful passage is introduced to shew, that it is a 
Irait of a good comparison, that the object, *o which a reaem- 

7* 



78 ON LITERARY TASTE. 



blance is traced, be naturally suggested. We say that the 
object is in this case suggested natuially, because the transi- 
tion is easy from the minds of the aged to the tombs, which 
they are approaching. The image brought to our view is in 
consonance with the feelings, which the thought to be illus- 
trated had excited. Suppose now, that the object of resem« 
blance, instead of mouldering tombs, had been the canvass 
on which images had been drawn in fading colors. This 
would have been illustrative, but what man of taste would 
not say, that the beauty of the comparison is impaired ? 
While then, as before stated, w r e guard against drawing our 
comparisons from objects to which the resemblance is too 
close, it should be remembered, that it heightens the beauty 
of the comparison, to discover that the object to which a re- 
semblance is traced, is naturally suggested. 

In applying this direction, we are to take into view, not 
only the nature of the subject, but the circumstances with 
which the writer is surrounded. Some of the most admired 
compositions in our literature are those, in which the re- 
semblance is obviously suggested by an object immediately 
before the writer. Thus Burke, describing the effect pro- 
duced upon him by the loss of his son, says ; " The storm 
has gone over me ; and I lie like one of those old oaks 
which the late hurricane has scattered about me. I am 
stripped of all my honor ; I am torn up by the roots and lie 
prostrate on the earth ! " 

When a comparison is thus naturally suggested, there is 
found in it a fitness or adaptation to the subject and occasion 
on which it is introduced ; and in such instances, the emo- 
tion of taste which is called forth, may be traced in part to 
this principle of adaptation as its exciting cause. More fulJy 
to shew that this fitness must exist, that a comparison mav be 
approved, I introduce another example 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 79 

Suppose that in a discourse from the pulpit the following 
•entence should be found ; 

" Curses, like chickens, always come home to roost." 

This comparison is founded on an unexpected resem- 
blance, and is illustrative ; but if we regard it in relation to 
the occasion, there is a want of fitness. It is not in conso- 
nance with the sober, elevated train of thought and feeling, 
which should characterize a religious discourse ; and the 
man of literary taste at once condemns it, because of its 
want of fitness to the occasion. 

The principle here stated is fully illustrated in the nature 
of the comparisons, which are most frequently introduced 
in different departments of writing. In pastorals, resem- 
blances are traced to objects and scenes in rural life; in 
epic and tragic poetry, to such as are of a more exalted and 
ennobling kind ; in comic, to those of a familiar nature. 
Now in all these instances, the resemblances are said to be 
naturally suggested, — there is in them a fitness to the oc- 
casion and to the thoughts and feelings of the personages 
introduced. 

Example 3. — "The style of Canning is like the convex mirror, 
which scatters every ray of light which falls upon it, and shines and 
sparkles in whatever position it is viewed ; that of Brougham is like 
the concave speculum, scattering no indiscriminate radiance, but 
having its light concentrated into one intense and tremendous 
focus. 

This comparison strikes us favorably, and should the 
inquiry be made, wny it excites an emotion of taste, we at 
once refer the pleasure it gives us to its fitness to the design 
of the writer. He would have us perceive the different 
characteristic traits of the styles of Canning and Brougham, 
and every one must see with admiration, how much is e£ 
fected by the illustration which is introduced. 



80 ON LITERARY TASTE. 



To illustrate, is most frequently the design of the Com 
parison ; and when in this way the writer seeks to increase 
the distinctness of the reader's views, the object of resem- 
blance should always be more familiarly known, or such as 
to be more distinctly conceived by us, than the object to be 
illustrated. In the example given, an object of thought is 
compared to an object of sense, and since objects of sense 
are generally more distinct to the mind than objects of 
thought, the effect of the comparison is favorable. Hence, 
in good illustrative comparisons it will generally be the case, 
that when objects of thought and sense are brought to view, 
the former is illustrated by the latter. In those exceptions 
to this .principle which strike us favorably, some reason ma? 
generally be assigned, as in the following example. Scot 
describing Loch Katrine, says, 

" The mountain shadows on her breast 
Were neither broken nor at rest ; 
In bright uncertainty they lie, 
Like future joys to fancy's eye." 

In this instance, it may be said, that our consciousness of 
the uncertainty of those future joys which fancy presents, 
is so strong, that our conceptions of the wavering of moun- 
tain shadows on the lake, is aided by the comparison. 

In determining whether an object is familiarly known, 
regard must be had to those who are addressed. In a pro- 
duction on a literary subject addressed to literary men, it 
would be proper to bring to view objects of resemblance, 
which should not be referred to in writings addressed to chil- 
dren or to the unlearned. Neither, in what is addressed to a 
^earned audience, would it be proper to introduce as an 
object of comparison, a principle in science, or a process in 
some art, which is comparatively of little importance, and 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 81 

Known only to those who are learned in a particular branch 
of knowledge, or adepts in a particular art. 

The object of resemblance in the example we are now 
considering, is sufficiently familiar to all who are capable of 
understanding the production in which it is found, and this 
is all that is required. 

Example 4. — " Thus it is with illustrious merit ; its very effulgence 
draws forth the rancorous passions of low and grovelling minds, which 
too often have a temporary influence in obscuring it to the world ; as 
the sun, emerging with full splendor into the heavens, calls up, by the 
very power of his rays, the rank and noxious vapors which for a time 
becloud his glory." 

This is called an analogical comparison, and if analysed, 
it will be found to contain an argument from analogy. We 
all know that it is the fervor of the sun, which calls up rank 
and noxious vapors from the earth ; and reasoning analogi- 
cally, we are led to the conclusion, that it is the effulgence 
of illustrious merit, which draws forth the rancorous passions 
of low and grovelling minds. 

Comparisons of this kind strike us favorably. They aid 
the writer in imparting to others the opinions he may enter- 
tain, and the reasonings on which these opinions are found- 
ed. Some men are accustomed to reason in this way, and 
such are usually eminently successful as instructors, since 
they are thus enabled to make themsehes easily and readily 
understood. This indeed is the appropriate object of ana- 
logical comparisons ; and it is a fitness to this design, which 
causes us to regard those which are well conducted with 
emotions of taste. 

Example 5. — "He lived a wanderer and a fugitive in his native 
land, and went down, like a lonely bark foundering amid darknesi 
and tempest, — without a pitying eye to weep his fall, or a friendly 
hand to record his struggle." 



82 ON LITERARY TASTE. 



Th s comparison is found at the conclusion of the account, 
given by Irving, of King Philip. He has made mention of 
his heroic qualities and noble achievements, and he would 
excite in the minds of his readers a feeling of compassionate 
regret at his miserable and untimely fall. The comparison 
pleases us. The resemblance on which it is founded, is not 
too obvious ; and it is naturally suggested. But the princii 
pal cause of the emotion of beauty which it excites, is its 
adaptedness to the design of the writer. When we think 
of the lonely bark, ' foundering amid darkness and tempest,' 
it is with strong emotions of compassion and regret ; and by 
causing the mind to bring this object before its view in con- 
nexion with King Philip in his adversity, the writer derives 
much aid in leading us to regard the latter object with the 
same emotion. 

In this manner any object or occurrence, which, either 
from the original constitution of our minds, or from asso- 
ciation, is wont to excite an emotion of a particular kind, 
may be introduced by the writer, and thus a higher interest 
is thrown over the thoughts he communicates, and increased 
influence exerted over the minds of his readers. And while 
the man of literary taste is led to notice the skill and power 
which is thus displayed, he feels, in view of such compari- 
sons, emotions of beauty. 

Example 6. — " He was a little, meagre, black-looking man, with a 
grizzled wig that was too wide, and stood off from each ear ; so that 
his head seemed to have shrunk away within it, like a dried filbert in 
its shell." 

In this comparison, it is the writer's design to increase 
the emotion of a ludicrous kind, with which the object he is 
describing is in itself regarded. The comparison is there- 
fore approved by the man of literary taste, on the principle 
01 fitness, as in the last example. All similar attempts at 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 83 

wit and humor must evidently come under the cognizance 
of literary taste. But there is a peculiarity in many com- 
parisons, introduced with the design of exciting emotions 
of the ludicrous, which requires particular notice. Often 
there is nothing in the object compared, or in that to which 
a resemblance is traced, which is fitted to excite emotions 
of the ludicrous ; but when they are viewed together, an 
emotion of this kind is produced. In such instances, the 
effect of the comparison is to be ascribed to the strangeness 
of the resemblance which is traced out. An example will 
more clearly show what is here stated. Of Hudibras it is 
said: 

" We grant, although he had much wit, 
He was very shy of using it ; 
As being loath to wear it out, 
And therefore bore it not about ; 
Unless on Holidays, or so, 
As men their best apparel do." 

Now there is nothing ludicrous in the assertion, tnat a 
man possesses wit, but does not often show it. Neither is 
there any thing ludicrous in saying, that a man wears his 
best apparel only on holidays. But when the objects are 
brought together and compared, the comparison excites an 
emotion of a ludicrous nature. Still, in such instances, as 
in those of which an example was before given, it is the fit- 
ness of the comparison to the design of the writer, which 
causes it to be approved by the man of literary taste. 

Example 7. -— " Bramins and sooders and castes and shasters will 
have passed away, like the mist which rolls up the mouniain's side, 
iefore the rising glories of a summer's morning, while the land on 
which it rested, shining forth in all its loveliness, shall, from its 
aumberle8s habitations, send forth the high praises of God and the 
Lamb. ' 

In the part of the discourse from which this comparison 



84 ON LITERARY TASTE. 

is taken, the writer is dwelling on the influence whick 
must attend the spread of the Gospel in Asia. He would 
have us regard the thoughts he expresses on this subject 
with grateful emotions, and by introducing the comparison 
which has been stated, he evidently does much towards ef- 
fecting this design. Hence the man of literary iaste ap- 
proves the comparison, from its fitness to the design of the 
writer. But it is to be noticed, that the scene is one, which 
in itself, distinct from its adaptation to the subject, is fitted 
to excite an emotion of beauty. " A land shining forth in 
its loveliness, beneath the rising glories of a summer's 
morning, while the mists are rolling up the mountain's 
side," is a scene, which, from the original constitution of 
our minds, is regarded in this manner. In this example, 
then, we find an illustration of what was stated in the for- 
mer part of the chapter, that in the introduction of the or- 
naments of style, with the design of exciting emotions of 
taste, the writer sometimes addresses himself to the original 
tendencies of the mind to feel such emotions in view of ob- 
jects and scenes in the natural world. Comparisons of this 
kind are called embellishing comparisons, and when natu- 
rally suggested, and in agreement with the subject and oc- 
casion, they excite strong emotions of beauty. 

Example 8. — -"The poetry of Milton, exhibiting the most sub 
lime conceptions and elevated language, intermingled with passages 
of uncommon delicacy of thought and beauty of expression, reminds 
us of the miracles of Alpine scenery. Nooks and dells, beautiful 
as fairy land, are embosomed in its most rugged and gigantic ele- 
vations. The roses and myrtles bloom unchilled on the verge of the 
avalanche." 

This example, like the preceding, unites the various ex 
cellences of a fine comparison. The resemblance on *hicr 
it is founded is not too obvious, and is naturally suggested • 
ftie comparison is also illustrative; — it aids in effecting the 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 85 

design of tne writer as connected with his subject, and i 
brings before the mind a scene, which, partly from the ori- 
ginal constitution of the mind, and partly from association, 
is fitted to excite an emotion of taste. 

From the remarks now made, and the principles stated^ 
the student is prepared to judge of comparisons as orna- 
ments of style. In examining a particular instance, he will 
first consider the nature of the resemblance on which it is 
founded, — whether it be not too obvious — whether it be 
naturally suggested, and whether the object to which a re- 
semblance is traced be sufficiently familiar. He will next 
inquire as to the kind of comparison, — whether the in- 
stance under examination is illustrative, or analogical, or 
embellishing, or designed to excite some particular emotion ; 
and thus he will judge of the propriety of its introduction 
in the place where it is found, and of its bearing on the 
leading design of the writer. He may then ask more gen- 
erally, on what principle is the instance founded, as an at- 
tempt to excite an emotion of taste — whether on fitness, or 
association, or on some primary law of our nature. 

From the consideration of the Formal Comparison, I pro- 
ceed to the Implied Comparison, or Metaphor. 

Let us suppose, that a writer wishes to show his readers, 
how soon the effect of sorrow on the minds of the young is 
done away. While this thought has possession of the nima 
some principle of association brings up to his view a young 
and vigorous tree, in the bark of which an incision has 
been made, but the wound, from the rapidity of tne growm 
«f the tree, is fast closing over. The resemblance between 
he thought in his mind and the object thus presented, his 
taste approves as illustrative and striking, and he wishes to 
place it before the view of others. The most obvious 
method of doing this is as follows ; " As the wound made 
in the bark of the young and healthy tree, soon closes over, 
8 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 



so sorrows in the minds of the young, are of short duration " 
By this forma* comparison, the object of the writei would 
be effected. His readers would perceive the resemblance, 
and their good taste would approve this attempt to aid the 
distinctness of their view. But let us suppose, that instead 
of this formal comparison, he expresses himself as follows : 
1 What are the sorrows of the young ! Their growing 
minds soon close above the wound." This expression 
brings before the mind the same objects as are brought by 
the comparison ; the same resemblance is traced, and the 
same aid is given to the distinctness of our view. But the 
resemblance, instead of being distinctly stated, is implied. 
Upon reading the passage, it at once occurs to us, that some 
of the words used are applied to objects, to which they are 
not usually applied. We are not wont to speak of the 
mind as growing, and of the wounds of the mind as 
closing over. From this unusual application of words, the 
imagination is set in action, and brings up to view the re- 
semblance, just as the writer designed it should be seen. 
This, then, is what is called an implied comparison or a 

METAPHOR. 

So far as the comparison and metaphor are the same, it 
is unnecessary to repeat the principles and rules stated with 
reference to the former, since they apply alike to both. 
But in thus implying a resemblance by the unusual appli- 
cation of language, there is an exertion of skill, which is 
not. found in its more formal statement. And hence, when 
rne metaphor is extended through different clauses, an emo- 
tion of taste may be excited in view of the fitness of the dif- 
ferent parts in their connexion with each other, and with 
the whole. There is also need of cautions which are not 
required ii the use of the comparison. Some happy in- 
stances of the metaphor will therefore be pointed out, and 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 8? 

juch cautions given as may guard us from faults in the un 
usual application of language. 

Example 1. — " She had been the pupil of the village pastor, the 
favorite lamb of his little flock." 

The latter part of this sentence is a metaphor. We are 
at once aware, that the fair maiden here referred to, is not 
meant to be called a lamb of a little flock in the literal ap- 
plication of the word. The implied comparison is readily 
suggested. The imagination brings before us the lamb of 
a little flock, and we think of the tenderness and care with 
which it is nurtured, and the strong interest, which from 
its youth and simplicity it excites ; and we trace out the 
resemblance to this pupil of the village pastor. We are 
pleased with the comparison as one easily and naturally 
suggested, as illustrative, and as bringing before the mind 
an object which it regards with an emotion of beauty. 

Though this example of the Metaphor is faultless, it does 
not excite in the minds of most readers a strong emotion of 
beauty. This is easily explained, and is an illustration of 
a principle which should be borne in mind in all our judg- 
ments of attempts of this nature. So frequently do we com- 
pare what is tender and delicate and innocent to the lamb, 
that we have become familiar with the comparison, and it 
has lost its effect upon us. We may learn then from this ex- 
ample, that the introduction of common comparisons and 
metaphors will add little to the beauty of style. They will 
not be defects, but having lost by repetition their power of 
pleasing, they will be passed by unnoticed. Novelty is not 
then to be regarded as a source of emotions of taste ; but the 
vant of novelty will prevent such emotions from being felt. 

Example 2. Burke, in his description of Atheists, says, 

" They abhor the author of their being. He never presents him 



88 ON LITERARY TASTE. 

self to their thoughts, but to menace and alarm them. They can 
not strike the sun out of the heavens, but they are able to raise t 
smouldering smoke that obscures him from their eyes.' 

From the connexion, we learn, that this last sentence is 
not meant to convey what is expressed by the words as thej 
are usually applied. This leads us to inquire, in what waj 
they are designed to be understood, and imagination at 
once traces out a resemblance between the sun in the heav- 
ens, and that glorious Being, who shines forth in the bright- 
ness of his perfections; and we continue to trace the re- 
semblance between the attempt of mortals, to obscure the 
brightness of the sun to their own view by raising a smoul- 
dering smoke, and the attempt of Atheists, to obscure to their 
own minds the existence of the Deity, by their darkening 
speculations. As this is a representation of objects oi 
thought by objects of sense, the effect in giving increased 
distinctness of view is favorable. 

Example 3. Byron has the following striking Metaphor 

" Man ! 
Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear." 

Here is evidently ai implied comparison, and one that 
pleases us from the unexpectedness and appropriateness of 
the resemblance on which it is founded The example also 
brings to notice a characteristic trait of the Metaphor. 1 
refer to its boldness. The writer, under a deep impression 
of the varieties in the life of man, in a sudden, striking 
manner, calls him a pendulum, and leaves it to the excited 
imagination of the reader to trace out the resemblance. 
Hence it is, that the use of the Metaphor is not well adapt- 
ed to a calm, deliberate, reasoning state of mind. In this 
respect it differs from the Comparison, which is sometimes 
called the figure of description, while the Metapho" is term 
ed the figure of passion. 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 89 



Example 4. Irving, while wandering amidst the silent 
and gloomy scenes of Westminster Abbey, hears the sound 
of busy existence without. He thus describes the effect on 
his feelings. 

" The contrast is striking; and it has a strange effect, thus to hear 
the surges of active life hurrying along and beating against the very 
walls of the sepulchre." 

" The surges hurrying along and beating," at once sug- 
gests to the imagination the comparison here implied, and 
there is a sublime emotion which takes* ♦ possession of the 
mind, as the resemblance is traced. 

These examples are sufficient fully to show the nature of 
the Metaphor, or Implied Comparison. With the design of 
exhibiting the skill which is requisite when language is 
thus used figuratively, a few more examples will now be 
given. 

Example 5. Of Mr. Roscoe it is said in the Sketch 
Book, 

" He found the tide of wealth flowing merely in the channels of 
traffic ; he has diverted from it invigorating rills to refresh the gar 
dens of literature." 

This is an example of a well supported metaphor. If we 
notice the different words, by the unusual application of 
which the metaphor is here implied, we shall find, that they 
are in agreement with each other, and all tend to aid the 
imagination in bringing up the object of comparison and 
tracing out the resemblance. We have before our view the 
" tide flowing in channels," and then the " rills are diverted 
to refresh the gardens." In saying that these words are in 
agreement with each other, reference is had to the use oi 
them in their common application, and this is necessary 
hat the metaphor be well supported Let us suppose that 
8 * 



90 ON LITERARY TASTE. 

" ■* - -.. *%■ 

the writer had said, "He found the tide of wealth flowing 
merely in the channels of traffic, and took out large sums 
to support and encourage literature." We might in this case 
have made out his meaning, but what confusion is there in 
the attempt of the imagination to trace out the comparison 
wnich is implied ! The reason of this confusion is obvious, 
In the former part of the sentence, the words are used fig- 
uratively, and in the latter, literally. Hence then we derive 
the following rule. That in Metaphors, we guard against 
joining together language applied figuratively and literally. 

Example 6. A, writer in the Edinburgh Review, with 
the design of showing in what way the early state of society 
is favorable to poetical excellence, says, 

" Poetry produces an illusion on the eye of the mind, as a magic 
lantern produces an illusion on the eye of the body. And as a ma- 
gic lantern acts best in a dark room, poetry effects its purpose best in a 
dark age. As the light of knowledge breaks in upon its exhibitions, as 
the outlines of certainty become more and more definite, and the 
shades of probability more and more distinct, the lines and linea- 
ments of the phantoms which it calls up, grow fainter and fainter." 

This example commences with a formal comparison, and 
afterwards changes into a metaphor. It is introduced to 
show the admirable skill, which is displayed in the applica- 
tion of words. " The breaking in of light," the " outlines 
becoming more definite," the " shades more and more dis- 
tinct," and the " lines and lineaments of the phantoms grow- 
ing fainter and fainter," are expressions, which may be liter- 
ally applied to the objects presented by the magic lantern, and 
at the same time, as applied by the imagination to the crea- 
tions of poetry, they present a distinct and complete view. 
There can be no doubt, that part of the pleasure derived 
from reading this passage, results from the skill displayed 
in this happy application of language, continued as it is 
.hroigh several clauses. Suppose that the latter part of this 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 91 

example had read, " As the light of knowledge breaks in 
upon its exhibitions, as the outlines of certainty become 
more and more definite, as the weight of probability increases, 
the lines and lineaments of the phantoms which it calls 
up, grow fainter and fainter." Here would be what is called 
mixed metaphor. The imagination, in its attempt to trace 
out the resemblance and bring a distinct image before th 
mind, when it comes to the clause — " the increasing weigh 
of probability," is led astray, and the whole image become 
confused. This then suggests the caution, that in contin 
ued metaphors, we should guard against applying icords ir 
such a manner, as to bring up two or more different resem- 
blances, and thus produce confusion in the view presented to 
the imagination. 

And here I introduce an example of mixed metaphor, in 
detecting which, the student may more fully see the nature 
of this fault. 

" "We are constantly called upon to observe how the noxious pas- 
sions, which spring up in the heart like weeds in a neglected garden, 
are dissipated by the light of truth." 

Example 7. The same writer, in describing the sophistry 
and unfair statements of those, who tell us to judge of Civil 
Liberty from the outrages and violent acts which attend rev- 
olutions, says, 

" It is just at this crisis of revolution that its enemies love to ex- 
hibit it. They pull down the scaffolding from the half-finished edi- 
fice ; they point to the flying dust, the falling bricks, the comfortless 
rooms, the frightful irregularity of the whole appearance ; and then 
Ask in scorn, where the promised splendor and comfort is to be 
*ound." 

This example is different from the preceding. It is only 
in the first part of it, that the words are designed to be figu- 
ratively applied to the system of government, by which civil 



92 ON LITERARY TASTE. 

liberty is secured. We may speak of civil government as hB 
edifice, and of the helps used in rearing it, as scaffolding. 
But if we try to trace out that which may correspond to the 
flying dust, the falling bricks, the comfortless rooms, and 
other circumstances mentioned, it is without success. Still 
the metaphor strikes us favorably ; for though the imagina- 
tion cannot trace out the particulars, it is aided in bringing 
to the mind a general view of the effect. Let us now sup- 
pose that the example had read, " They pull down the scaf- 
folding from the half-finished edifice, they point to the dust 
of dispute, the falling bricks of contention, the comfortless 
rooms of an exhausted treasury, the frightful irregularity 
of the whole appearance of government ; and then ask in 
scorn, where the promised splendor and comfort is to be 
found." This would have been pursuing the metaphor too 
far ; it would be called strained, and good taste would con- 
demn it. Hence then we derive the caution, not to pursue 
the figurative application of language too far. 

Example 8. " Half round the globe, the tears pumped up by aeath 
Are spent in watering vanities of life." 

The metaphor in this passage, though it may catch the at- 
tention because of its novelty and ingenuity, will not be 
pleasing to the man of correct literary taste. It is not found* 
ed on a resemblance which is obvious and easily traced 
out, or, as the phrase has been explained, naturally suggested. 
Hence metaphors of this hind are said to be forced, or far 
fetched, and the use of them should be avoided. 

Example 9. The celebrated passage, in which Burke 
describes the fall from power of Lord Chatham and the rise 
of Charles Townsend, unites in it all the excellences of the 
metaphor. 

1 Even then, before this splendid orb was entire y set, t Jid labile 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 93 



the western horizon was in a blaze with his descending glory, on the 
opposite quarter of the heavens arose another luminary, and for his 
hour became lord of the ascendant." 

In this fine passage, the resemblance implied is such as to 
be highly illustrative ; there is a grandeur in the object pre- 
sented which elevates the mind, and the language, in its 
figurative application, is skilfully and happily managed. 

In the examples of the Metaphor which have now been 
given, it has been shewn, that it is in its nature the same as 
the Comparison, — that it differs from it, in that the resem- 
blance is not formally stated, but simply implied, — that the 
mode of implying it is by the application of language in an 
unusual manner, which is called applying it figuratively, — 
that several cautions are to be observed in this figurative ap- 
plication of words, and that strained and forced metaphors 
are to be avoided. 

It has been common to mark a distinction between the 
metaphor and the allegory, the latter being defined a con- 
tinued metaphor. But as both are founded on the same 
p-ineipies, and require the same cautions and directions in 
their use, the "distinction is regarded as one of little practical 
importance. 

There is a mode of illustration and embellishment, often 
found in the productions of good writers, which, though of 
the nature of the comparison, is worthy of separate attention. 
I refer to what are called Allusions. It will at once be 
seen, that though they differ in form from the comparison, 
they are of the same nature, and their introduction depends 
on similar principles. Like comparisons they are illustra- 
tive, and give us pleasure from the discovery of unexpected 
resemblances, or coincidences of thought, or expression* 
If, too, the comparison, when drawn from some fair scene in 
nature, or some finished work of art, gives us pleasure by 
directing the mind to that which causes a grateful emotion, 



94 



ON LITERARY TAS1 E. 



the same is true of the allusion. Our attention is directed 
to some classical writer, or to some well kncwn popular 
writer of the day, or to some recent event, — the imagination 
is set in exercise, — grateful associations are excited, and 
the effect is happy. Some examples of the Allusion will 
now be given. 

Example 1. Burke, in his character of Lord Chatham, 
has the following passage ; 

" His is a great and celebrated name ; a name which keeps the 
name of this country respectable over any other on the globe. It may 
be truly called, 

Clarum et venerabile nomen 
Gentibus, et muitum nostra quod proderit urbi." 

This is called a classical allusion, and to those who have 
classical associations, such allusions are always pleasing. 
They are connected with the days of our youth, and with 
scenes, the memory of which is grateful to us. They refer 
us also to those pages, where our tastes have been formed, 
and our minds disciplined and furnished with knowledge. 

It will at once occur, that allusions in the form of the ex- 
ample given, should never be made, except in productions 
which are primarily addressed to those who are familiar with 
the language of the quotation. Should a preacher of the 
present day imitate in this respect the sermons of Jeremy 
Taylor, he would justly incur the charge of pedantry. But 
in addresses to deliberative assemblies, or to literary associa- 
tions, or on public national celebrations, or even where 
classical scholars are found, allusions of this kind may occa- 
sionally be introduced with a happy effect. 

Example 2. In some instances of classical allusions the c 
is a reference to facts found in classical writers, without a 
quotation in a foreign language. Of this an example is 
given by Burke in his speech on the Carnatic war. 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 95 

"Every day you are fatigued and disgusted with this cant — The 
Carnatic is a country that will soon recover, and become instantly as 
prosperous as ever. They think they are talking to innocents, who 
believe that by the sowing of dragon's teeth, men may come up ready 
grown and ready made." 

In classical allusions of this form, the writer is not con- 
fined within so narrow limits, as in those of the preceding. 
Still, care should be had, that what is thus alluded to should 
be generally known. Miss H. More is a writer, who has 
not sufficiently observed this caution. We not unfrequently 
find classical allusions in her writings, of which even to the 
classical student, it is no shame to be ignorant. 

Example 3. A writer, describing the influence of the 
American revolution, says, 

"From our revolutionary struggle, proceeded the revolution m 
France, and all which has followed in Naples, Portugal, Spain and 
Greece; and though the bolt of every chain has been again driven, 
they can no more hold the heaving mass, than the chains of Xerxes 
could hold the Hellespont vexed with storms." 

This is a historical allusion. In most instances of this 
kind the design is to illustrate. The caution then is pecu- 
liarly necessary, that in historical allusions the facts alluded 
to be such as are generally known. Otherwise such allu- 
sions will only throw a deeper shade on those objects, which 
they were designed to illuminate. 

Example 4. There are some instances in which historical 
allusions are designed not only to illustrate, but to awaken 
grateful emotions. Such is the following from Everett's 
Address ; 

" Lincoln, and Greene, and Knox, and Hamilton, are gone , the 
heroes of Saratoga and Yorktown have fallen before the only foe they 
•ould not meet." 

Historical allusions of this kind, which bring to view im- 



96 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 



portant events or characters in the history of a nation, are 
ever grateful to the people of that nation. Hence they are 
so often found in public addresses on occasions of national 
celebrations, and serve to gratify the pride of national feel- 
ing. One caution may well be given respecting allusions 
of this kind — that they be not worn out, or such as are too 
commonly made. 

Example 5. The following is an English classical allu- 
sion. Milton, who was a contemporary with Cromwell, 
was a zealous republican. He wrote much and ably against 
the monarchical and aristocratical institutions of his time 
and, in so doing, condemned many of those elegant amuse- 
ments which were congenial to his own feelings. 

" He sacrifices his private tastes and feelings, that he might do what 
he considered his duty to mankind. It is the very struggle of the 
noble Othello. His heart relents, but his hand is firm. He does 
nought in hate, but all in honor. He kisses the beautiful deceiver 
before he destroys her. 

This allusion is to the Othello of Shakspeare ; and such 
is the rank and antiquity of his writings, that allusions to 
passages found in them, are regarded much in the same 
manner as classical allusions. We have in fact our English 
classical writers, who have outlived their century, and who, 
from their preeminence, may be supposed to be familiarly 
known by every English scholar. To such writers it is law- 
ful to make allusions as those whose works should be known ; 
and such allusions, when happily introduced, will please us 
in the same manner and degree, as those made to the an 
cient classics. 

Example 6. The following example is from Irving, and 
is taken from his account of James of Scotland, the " Royal 
Poet." 

4< James is evidently worthy of being enrolled in that little con 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 97 

■tellation of remote, but never failing luminaries, who shine in the 
highest firmament of literature, and who, like morning stars, sang to- 
gether at the bright dawning of British Poetry." 

This beautiful passage affords an example of a Scriptural 
allusion, and is highly pleasing. Allusions of this kind will 
always be well understood, and often, from their elevated 
nature, add much to the beauty of writings. But there is 
need of caution in their use. 

With the example that has been given, no fault can be 
found. It is rather to be commended as an embellishment. 
But too frequently is it the case, that the same innocency 
cannot be affirmed of allusions to our sacred writings. 
This remark is not meant to imply, that such allusions 
should never be made, except when the subject of discourse 
is of a serious or religious nature. It is enough that the 
subject be one of importance, that it have some dignity at- 
tached to it, ar>.d that there be nothing ludicrous or trifling 
Let ludicrous or trifling associations be connected with a 
passage of Scripture, and whenever this passage meets our 
attention, even in our most sober hours, there will be danger 
that these associations will come with it, and exert an un- 
favorable influence on the state of our feelings. Besides, 
there is something which savors much of profanity in such 
allusions to Scripture ; it shows, that that reverence is not 
felt for it, which, as God's word, it should command. 

These remarks are intended to be applied with most strict- 
ness to the introduction of the language of Scripture. There 
may be instances in which we may innocently make use, 
m the way of allusion, of historical facts found in Scripture, 
when the introduction of a phrase or sentence from the 
game source, would manifestly be improper. The reason 
o p this distinction is obvious. Our associations with par- 
ticular forms of expression are close and strong ; with facts, 
much less so. There is more need of caution also, be- 



98 ON LITERARY TASTE. 

cause the temptations in one case are much more frequent 
than in the other. From the antiquity of our translation 
of the Bible, there is often a quaintness in its expressions, 
and their introduction may give a point to some satirical 
remark, or furnish a striking form for some sally of wit. But 
we should beware. Scripture is a pure stream, flowing fc^th 
from the throne of God, and it should never be made t® 
reflect the fantastic images of human folly. 

In the productions of writers of taste, there are many 
allusions made to the literature of the times. When any lit- 
erary production gains Celebrity, it is supposed to be known 
to literary men ; and allusions may be made to such writings 
without incurring the charge of obscurity, and often with a 
favorable effect. Such allusions form a kind of bond be- 
tween literary men. They are the language of the frater- 
nity, and one cause of the pleasure which they afford, is 
found in the complacency and pride which are felt in being 
able to understand them. It is unnecessary to give many 
examples of this class of allusions. Two only will be brought 
forward, which furnish opportunity for some additional 
remark. 

Example 7. The following passage is from Greenwood 
on the eternity of God : 

" A stone perhaps may tell some wanderer where we lie, when we 
came here, and when we went away ; but even that will soon refuse 
to bear us record : ' time's effacing fingers ' will be busy on its surface, 
and at length will wear it smooth." 

The quotation in this passage is from one of the popu.ai 
poets of the day. The allusion to the admirable description 
where it is originally found, will be perceived and relished 
by every man of taste who is familiar with the writings of 
Byron ; and the pleasure, with which the passage that has 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 99 

oeen cit?d, will be read, is much greater, than if the same 
fnought had been expressed without the allusion. 

We have in this instance an example of a method often 
resorted to by writers in prose to embellish their produc- 
tions. Poetry is the language of the imagination. Its aim 
is to please; and hence the happy introduction of poetical 
language is justly considered an ornament of prose. Poetry 
also allows of inversions of clauses, and of the use of words 
forbidden to prose ; and hence it enables a writer to convey 
a thought in a sententious and striking manner. But here 
the caution may be given, not to introduce poetical expres- 
sions with great frequency. To say in verse what might as 
well be said in prose, and thus to be continually introducing 
scraps of poetry, may shew a familiarity with poetical writers, 
but is no evidence of a good literary taste. 

Example 8. As another example, I quote the following 
passage : 

" No sooner does he ("W. Irving) catch a glimpse of the venerable 
Kaatskill, lifting its shaggy head over its white ruff of ambient clouds, 
and frowning on the glorious Hudson as it rolls below ; no sooner do 
the antique gable-roofed domes of the Manhattoes and Albany, and the 
classic shades of Communipaw rise upon his fancy, than his foot is on 
his native heath, and his name is M'Gregor." 

Here the allusion is to one of the popular romances of the 
day, and hence it is understood and is pleasing. 

Example 9. The following example is from a review of 
the works of Milton. The author is stating the fact, that 
while, in the time of the English rebellion, others were desi- 
rous only of reforming some prevalent abuses, it was Milton's 
aim to attain the freedom of the human mind — to deliver 
men from moral and intellectual slavery. 

" Milton was desirous that the people should think for themselves, 
as well as tax themselves, and be delivered from the dominion of 
prejudice, as well as from that of Charles. He knew, that those 
♦rho with tne best intentions overlooked these schemes of reform, and 



100 ON LTTERARY TASTE. 



contented themselves with pulling down the king and imprisoning the 
malignants, acted like the heedless brothers in his own poems, who, in 
their eagerness to disperse the train of the sorcerer neglected tiw 
means of liberating the captive. They thought only of conquering, 
when they should have thought of disenchanting. 

O, ye mistook. Ye should have snatched the wand. 
Without the rod reversed, 

And backward mutters of dissevering power, 

We cannot free the lady that sits there, 

Bound in strong fetters, fixed and motionless.' 
To reverse this rod, to spell the charm backwards, to break the tie* 
that bound a stupefied people to the seat of enchantment, was the noble 
aim of Milton." 

In this example, a striking passage selected from the works 
which the reviewer is examining, is used as an illustration, 
and the effect is good. The pleasure which it affords us, is 
similar to that derived from a sprightly turn in conversation. 
We all know, that it adds much to the point of a witty remark, 
when its author has founded it on an expression just dropped 
by another. There is a suddenness about it, which is an evi- 
dence that it is not premeditated, and which is pleasing to 
us. Something of the same kind of pleasure, is without 
doubt felt, in meeting with allusions of the class to which the 
preceding example belongs. 

Example 10. I shall give but one example more of the 
Allusion, and that is worthy of notice from the manner of 
its introduction. It is sometimes the case, that a writer 
meets with a suitable object of allusion in the productions 
of somn author, whose writings are either in a language un- 
known to most of his readers, or not of sufficient reputation 
o be regarded as classical. In such instances, the only way 
is to state the fact or story, and then on this statement found 
the allusion. One caution in such cases should always be 
remembered. Be sure that the allusion is of sufficient im« 
portance to justify so formal an introduction. And if evei 
this is the case, it surely is so in the following example : 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 101 

" Ariosto tails a jretty story of a fairy, who, by some mysterious 
law of her nature, was condemned to appear at certain seasons in 
Ihe form of a foul and poisonous snake. Those who injured her 
during this period of her disguise, were forever excluded from par- 
ticipation in the blessings she bestowed. But to those, who, in spite 
of her loathsome aspect, pitied and protected her, she afterwards 
revealed herself in the beautiful and celestial form which was nat- 
ural to her; accompanied their footsteps, granted all their wishes, 
rilled their houses with wealth, made them happy in love, and victo- 
rious in war. Such a spirit is Liberty. At times she takes the form 
of a hateful reptile. She grovels, she hisses, she stings. But woe 
to those who in disgust shall venture to crush her. And happy are 
those, who, having dared to receive her in her degraded and frightful 
shape, shall at length be rewarded by her in the time of her beauty 
and glory." 

In the arrangement of the preceding examples of allu- 
sion, reference is had to the division of our associations into 
universal ai d arbitrary, which has been made by intellectual 
philosophers. Classical allusions, whether to standard au- 
thors in our own or foreign languages, Historical allusions, 
and Scriptural allusions, come under the head of those of 
universal association. Other instances are those of arbi 
trary associations. From noticing this distinction it may be 
seen, why, in the writings of our best authors, — those who 
write with the hope of being read when other writers of the 
age are forgotten, — allusions of the former class are much 
more frequent, than of the latter. The passing events of 
the day, and the ephemeral productions of the age, will 
soon be forgotten ; and though an allusion to them may at 
first cast some light on the passages where they are found, 
at a later time, and in a different place, such allusions will 
only tend to darken what before they illuminated. Not so 
with allusions founded on associations that are universal. 
While tie works from which they are derived go down to 
posterity, gathering new admiration in their progress, these 
allusions are understood, and constitute a bond of connexion 
9* 



L02 ON LITERARY TASTE 



between the literary men of different ages, being drawn from 
the same common storehouse of imagery and facts. 

The Comparison, Metaphor, and Allusion, are founded 
on the fondness of the mind for tracing unexpected resem- 
blances. There are other relations which give rise to other 
attempts to please. One thing is the cause of another j 
here is the relation of cause and effect. One thing is the 
symbol of another ; here is the relation of the sign to the 
thing signified. We look on the goblet, and we think of 
the generous wine with which it is wont to be filled ; here 
is the relation of the container to the thing contained. 
Again, one thing is part of another ; here is the relation of 
a part to the Whole. One thing is a species in relation to 
another which is its genus ; here is the relation of the species 
to the genus. 

The relations which have now been stated, aie not often 
formally referred to with the design of illustration or orna- 
ment ; but instances frequently occur, in which they are 
implied and suggested to the mind by the peculiar use of a 
word. The manner in which this is done, has been already 
shewn in the case of the Metaphor. 

To give examples of the different tropes, or figures, 
founded on these several relations, would be of little practi- 
cal advantage. Besides, in these instances, the writer does 
not found his aitempts to please solely on the fondness of 
the mind for discovering unexpected relations. Most fre- 
quently it is his wish to increase the distinctness of the 
reader's view, or in some other way to excite an emotion 01 
taste. Instead then of making these different figures, as 
the Metonymy, Synecdoche, Metalepsis and others, disti 
objects of attention, I shall more fully explain the nature 
the figurative use of language, and in another chapter, when 
treating of vivacity, as a quality of style, give examples of 
the most important of these figures. 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 103 

A word is said to be used literally, when it is used in a 
manner, which is authorized by the general consent of 
hose who speak and write with correctness the language, 
in which it is found A word is used figuratively, when, 
though it retains its usual signification, it is applied in a 
manner different from its common application. When 1 
speak of the pillar which supports the edifice, I use the 
word pillar literally, or as it is usually applied by those 
who speak the English language. If I say of a man, that 
he is the pillar of the State, I still use the word pillar in its 
common signification, as denoting that which, firmly fixed, 
gives a solid support, but I apply the word to an object dif- 
ferent from those to which it is usually applied. Instead of 
a solid mass of wood, or stone, the object to which it is ap- 
plied, is an intelligent being ; and instead of supporting a 
material edifice, it is the support of the State. This, then, 
is an example of the figurative use of language. 

It might be expected, that from their being < ften used ir 
a manner different from their common literal usb, the signifi- 
cations of this class of words would in time be subject to 
change. And this, in examining the history ol a language, 
is often found to be the case. In our own language, there 
are many words, which were at first literally applied to ma- 
terial objects only, and figuratively used to denote those 
which are intellectual. Many of these have now altogether 
lost their original meaning, and retain only that derived 
from their figurative use. Who would now speak of the 
apprehension of a chair, or of the ardor of his fre 1 But 
such, in their original signification, was the common use of 
these words. In other instances, where the signification 
of the word in its literal use has not become obsolete, the 
meaning derived from its figurative use is more readily sug- 
gested. 

It may be said, if this change is progressive, and the 



104 ON LITERARY TASTE. 

meaning of a word, as used figuratively, supersedes the on 
ginal literal signification, how are we to determine, in re* 
spect to a word thus changing, whether it be used figurative- 
ly or literally? The answer is, that whenever a word of thia 
class ceases to have any influence on the imagination, in 
leading it to trace out an unexpected relation, it is no lon- 
ger used figuratively, but its figurative meaning has become 
its literal. 

The changes in a language introduced by the figurative 
use of words, are attended with inconvenience, so far as 
they cause uncertainty in the signification of terms. But 
this inconvenience is amply compensated by the advantages 
resulting from the same source. Some of these I shall here 
mention ; 

1. The figurative use of words increases the copiousness 
of a language. It has already been stated, that when a 
word is used figuratively, its original meaning is retained, 
but this meaning is modified by the new application which 
is made. These new applications, then, are to be regarded 
as modifications of the original meaning of the word, and 
the effect is similar to the multiplying of derivatives from 
the radical terms of a language. The following uses of the 
word " tide " illustrate this remark. 

" "What a tide of woes come rushing on this woful land ' 
" The tide of blood in me hath proudly flowed in vanity. ' 
" There is a tide in the affairs of men." 

Now these different applications of the word tide do in 
fact so modify its meaning, that the effect is the same, as if 
so many new words had been introduced into the language 
Thus it is that a language is made more copious. 

2. As a necessary consequence from the preceding, the 
richness of language is increased. We have a greater va- 
riety of terms and expressions for conveying the same 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 105 

thought, or describing the same object, and are enabled to 
mark with distinctness minute shades of difference in our 
thoughts and in the appearance of objects. To illustrate 
this remark, I introduce several different ways in which the 
shining of the Sun is represented ; 

" Behold, the Sun hath burst the Eastern gates, 
Ani all his splendor floods the towered walls." 
" And when the Sun begins to fling 
His flaring beams." 

" Right against the eastern gate, 

Where the great Sun begins his state 
Rob'd in flames and amber light." 
" Thou'rt purpling now, O Sun, the vines of Canaan, 
And crowning with rich light the cedar tops of Lebanon ' 

" Thou Sun, 
The quiver of thy noontide rays 
Exhaust in all their fiery blaze." 

" a dazzling deluge reigns." 

" The western waves of ebbing day 
Rolled o'er the glen their level way, 
Each purple peak, each flinty spire, 
Was bathed in floods of living fire." 
' Phcebus bade farewell to every leaf and flower. 

The aid derived from the figurative use of words in point- 
ing out minute differences in the appearance of objects, 
may be learnt from the following expressions which describe 
the passage of light. 

" A peculiar melancholy reigns over the aisle where Mary lies 
buried. The light struggles dimly through windows darkened by 
dust," 

" The last beams of day were now faintly streaming through the 
painted windows in the high vaults above me." 

" The time shall come, when the garish sunbeam shall break inta 
these gloomy mansions of death." 

The advantages derived from the figurative use of words 



106 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 



in giving copiousness and richness to a language, are not 
confined to descriptive writing. Without aid of this kind, 
it would be difficult for the intellectual philosopher to con. 
duct his reasoning and explain the phenomena of the mind. 
3. The increased power of language may be mentioned 
as a third particular, in stating the advantages arising from 
the use of figurative terms. By the increased power of lan- 
guage, I here refer to its influence on the distinctness of 
our viwvs, and in exciting the feelings and emotions of 
which we are susceptible. The passages quoted when treat- 
ing of vivacity as a quality of style, illustrate this remark. 
I shall therefore state but few instances here, and these 
without comment. 

" Men looked up 



With mad disquietude on the dull sky, 
The pail of a past world." 

" Thoughts rush in stormy darkness through the soul. 
" It broke the Sabbath stillness round." 

" The heavens present an immense concave reposing on the 
circular boundary of the world." 

A fondness for life and animated beings in preference to 
inanimate objects, may- be stated as one of the principles in 
man, on which attempts to excite emotions of taste are 
founded. Whenever, therefore, a writer causes the imagi- 
nation of his readers to regard inanimate objects, or such as 
have an existence in the mind only, as "living and acting, or 
having the properties of a living being, such attempts, if au- 
thorized by the subject and occasion, are approved by lit- 
erary taste This is called Personification. 

There are different ways in which the imagination is led 
to give life to inanimate objects. Sometimes it is by a di- 
rect address to them as listening, sometimes by a descrip- 
tion of them as acting, and sometimes by merely ascribing 
to them the properties of* intelligent or animated beings, 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 107 

Examples of these different methods will be given, accon> 
panied with such remarks as may fully shew the nature of 
such attempts and the cautions to be observed in their use. 

Example 1. The following much admired instance of 
personification is from Milton. It is the language of Eve on 
leaving Paradise. 

" Must I leave thee, Paradise ? thus leave 
Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, 
Fit haunts of Gods ! where I had hoped to spend, 
Quiet though sad, the respite of that day 
That mustjDe mortal to us both ? O flowers, 
That never will in other climates grow, 
My early visitation, and my last 
At even, which I bred up with tender hand 
From the first opening bud, and gave you names, 
Who now shall rear you to the sun, or rank 
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount ? 

In this example, the garden with the different objects it 
contains, are addressed as having life and intelligence. Eve 
parts from them, as from friends with whom she has long 
been familiar, and whom she fondly loves. What is most 
prominent in all instances of this kind of personification is, 
that they result from strong emotion ; and this suggests one 
important rule respecting them. Personifications of the 
bolder kind should never be introduced, except when there is 
strong excitement. 

Personification, both of inanimate objects, and of such as 
have an existence only in the mind, are frequently found in 
the commencement of poetical effusions. The poet, struck 
with them as objects of beauty, or grandeur, or sublimity, 
becomes highly excited, and breaks forth in an address to 
them, as if they could hear his strains, and receive his 
praises. 

Example 2. The following example of this kind is from 
Akenside. 



108 ON LITERARY TASTE. 

■i ■ i« 

" Indulgent Fancy ! from the fruitful bai ks 

Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull 
• Fresh flowers and dews, to sprinkle on the turf 

Where Shakspeare lies, be present." 

In this example, there is a personification of a faculty of 
the mmd — that which exists only as an object oi thought 
or consciousness. Instances of this kind are common, and 
from their frequency do not appear so bold, as those of in- 
animate material objects ; but they are often justly regard- 
ed as happy attempts to excite emotions of taste. Like 
comparisons in which intellectual are illustrated by material 
things, they assist the mind in the distinctness oi its views. 
They also often bring before the mind an object or scene, 
in the view of which, from some original tendency of the 
mind, or from some association, an emotion of beauty is 
excited. In the instance just stated, imagination causes a 
fair form to rise before us, whose occupation it is to " cull 
fresh flowers from the banks of the rivers," and " sprinkle 
dews on poets' graves," and we regard the image presented 
with an emotion of beauty. 

The most important caution to be observed in the intro- 
duction of personifications of the kind we are considering 
:is, that tlie, object addressed be one of sufficient dignity and 
importance. Should a writer address his inkstand, or his 
paper, as beings of life and intelligence, the effect would 
be unfavorable. 

It will be noticed, that in the examples of personification 
which have been cited, inanimate objects and objects of 
thought are addressed as living agents. The writer calls 
upon them as beings that can hear and act. Examples will 
now be given, in which inanimate objects and objects of 
thougnt are described as acting and possessing the qualitiei 
of living beings. These instances form a second class of 
personifications, being less bold than those before stated 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 109 

Example 3. The following example is irom Milton ; 

11 So saying, her rash hand in evil hour 
Forth reaching to the fruit, she plucked she ate. 
Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat, 
Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe 
That all was lost." 

In this example, Earth, an inanimate material object, is 
described as feeling, and Nature, an object of thought, as 
acting. Though so high an excitement of the mind is not 
required to justify the introduction of a descriptive personi- 
fication, such as is here given, as is necessary to authorize 
a personification of the preceding class, still that excitement 
must exis: to a considerable degree. Had not the occasion 
been one of great importance, and the event one regarded 
with deep interest, the personifications of the earth and of 
nature here found, would not be approved. But so impor- 
tant was the occasion, and so momentous the event, that the 
method of description here adopted, is in agreement with 
our excited feelings. Hence, then, the caution given in 
reference to the former class of personifications, is applicable 
in some degree to this. 

Instances, in which objects of thought are represented as 
acting and exhibiting the qualities of active and intelligent 
beings, are frequent. One principal design of such personi- 
fications, as before remarked, is to aid the mind in the dis- 
tinctness of its conceptions. 

Example 4. The following example of this kind is from 
Hooker ; 

" Of law, there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is 
ti?e bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world. All things 
Li heaven and earth do her homage ; the very least as feeling her 
tare, and the greatest as not exempted from her power. Both an- 
grels and men and creatures of what condition soever, though each 
10 



110 3N LITERARY TASTE. 

in different sort and manner, yet all with uniform consent, admiring 
her as the mother of their peace and joy. 

No one can read this passage without a consciousness, 
that the personification gives a unity and distinctness to his 
conception of the nature and offices of law ; and this advan- 
tage is in addition to the pleasure, which is felt in the view 
of the venerated form of an intelligent being. 

In connexion with this example, one caution may be 
given, as applicable to descriptive personifications. There 
should be consistency between the different parts ; the lan- 
guage used throughout the whole description should be such 
as can be applied to an active, intelligent being; and the 
traits of character ascribed to it, should harmonize with 
each other. This is admirably exemplified in the instance 
before us. An intelligent being may have her seat, she may 
utter her voice, she may receive homage, and be called a 
mother. The traits of character are also consistent. Well 
may she, whose resting-place is the bosom of God, and whose, 
voice is the harmony of the world, receive the homage of all 
things in heaven and earth, and be admired as the mother 
of peace and joy. 

It may be here remarked, that personifications are often 
fo'ind united with metaphors. Of this the following passage 
(T3m Thomson is an example; 

" The mountain thunders ; and its sturdy sons 
Stoop to the bottom of the rocks they shade." 

Here the trees are called the sons of the mountain. This 
will at once be recognized as the metaphor, and it happily 
Introduces the personification, by which the trees are repre- 
sented as stooping. That the author speaks of the trees 
as acting, and not of the sons, is evident from the latter 
par*, of the sentence, in which mention is made of the shade 



ON LITERARY TASTE. Ill 



Instances of this kind are frequent, and upon examination 
of them, it will generally be found, that they occur where 
inanimate objects are wont to have some motion imparted 
to them from an external cause, or where some other cir- 
cumstance connected with them, gives ground for the per- 
sonification. This is seen in the following examples: 

" Low the woods 
Bow their hoar heads." 
" The sky saddens with the gathered storm." 

" The cherished fields 
Put on their winter robe of purest white." 

All these instances of personification are evidently founa- 
ed on a resemblance between what is literally true of the 
object presented to our notice and an imagined animated 
being. Hence such instances are said to partake both of the 
nature of the metaphor and personification. Personifications 
of this kind are naturally suggested, and do not imply so 
high a state of excitement as those before mentioned. Hence 
they are frequently found. 

Instances in which some of the properties of intelligent 
and animated beings are ascribed to inanimate objects, are 
rery frequent, especially in poetical productions. Our lan- 
guage, from its philosophical distinction of gender, is well 
suited to personifications of this kind. We have only to apply 
to an object one of our pronouns, thus giving to it a gender, 
and it " becomes a thing of life." The same is also effected, 
by connecting, as a predicate, with an inanimate object, 
a verb, which in its received use implies life and action, or 
by joining to an inanimate object some epithet expressive of 
itfe. Thus when we say of a ship, that she sails ; of a book, 
that it speaks to us ; or when we call the wind, the whisper- 
ing wind, we afford examples of this class of personifications. 
Instances of this kind of personification are common, and 
conduce much to the animation and beauty of writing. 



112 ON LITERARY TASTE. 

On the principle, that the mind is pleased with animated 
beings in preference to those which are inanimate, a writer 
sometimes calls on the dead, or absent, as if living or pres- 
ent. This is termed Apostrophe. 

The following example is from Webster's Address on 
Bunker's Hill : 

" Him ! cut off by Providence in the hour of overwhelming anxiety 
and thick gloom; falling, ere he saw the star of his country rise ; 
pouring out his generous blood, like water, before he knew whether 
it would fertilize a land of freedom or of bondage ! how shall I strug- 
gle with the emotions that stifle the utterance of thy name ! Our 
poor work may perish ; but thine shall endure ! This monument 
may moulder away ; the solid ground it rests upon may sink down to 
a level with the sea; but thy memory shall not fail ! " 

It will be observed in reading this passage, that the Ora- 
tor, after speaking of the " first great Martyr in the cause 
of Independence," as of one absent or dead, suddenly changes 
the train of his thought, and addresses himself directly to 
the same personage as one present and listening. It is this 
sudden turn from one manner of speaking of a subject to 
another, that is referred to by the word Apostrophe, which 
etymologically signifies a breaking ofT, or turning from one 
object to another. 

Attempts of this kind to excite emotions of taste, are but 
seldom made. They are evidence of strong excitement, 
and are found in prose only in high flights of oratory. In 
poetical writings, they are more frequent. The same cau- 
tions and directions may be applied to them, as to personi- 
fications of the bolder kind. 

It may be remarked, that the word Apostrophe is often 
used in a more general signification, than that here ascribed 
to it. Thus we have in Byron an Apostrophe to the Ocean, 
and also to Mount Parnassus. All that is meant in this use 
of the word is, that the author turns himself to these objects 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 113 

with a direct address to them. So far as these instances 
come under the examination of literary taste, it is as exam- 
ples of personification of the bolder kind. 

Writers under the influence of strong excitement, some- 
times break forth in incoherent and extravagant expressions, 
which will not bear the examination of common sense, and 
which, unless viewed as the language of passion, would be 
condemned by good taste as unnatural and inconsistent. 
Such expressions however are excused as the language of 
pasiion, and to instances of this kind the name of Hyper- 
bole is applied. But as such instances are of rare occur- 
rence, and are not subject to rule, one example only will be 
given. It is extracted from the Siege of Valencia. 

" Flow forth, thou nobb blood ! 
Bathe the land, 
But there thou shalt not sink ! our very ait 
Shall take thy coloring, and our loaded skiea 
O'er the infidel hang dark and ominous, 
With battle hues of thee ! And thy deep voice, 
Rising above them to the judgment-seat, 
Shall call a burst of gathered vengeance down, 
To sweep the oppressor from us ! For thy wave 
Hath made his guilt run o'er " 

To call upon the blood of youth to ' bathe the land,' or to 
speak of it as ' tinging the skies,' and ' uttering a voice,' is 
an extravagance, to be excused only on the ground of the 
wildness of passion; but when the character of the individ- 
ual by whom these expressions were uttered, and the cir- 
cumstances in which he was placed, are known, the lan- 
guage used is not only allowed but approved. 

But there is another form of the Hyperbole, which comes 
more strictly under the cognizance of literary taste. It *s 
when a writer, with the design of producing a strong im- 
pression on the mind, and thus gratifying a fondness for rti*- 
10 * 



114 ON LITERARY TASTE. 



tinct and vivid views of objects, exaggerates what he relates. 
Instances of this *ind are frequent in common conversation ; 
but such instances, from their frequency, lose their influence 
on the imagination, and are regarded as common forms of 
speech. Of instances less common, a few examples wili 
now be given The following is from the Siege of Valen- 



" A rescued land 
Sent up a shout of victory from the field, 
That rocked her ancient mountains." 

This is evidently exaggeration, and it is the language of 
an excited mind ; but since the occasion authorizes this ex- 
citement, and the effect of the strong expression used, is to 
produce a clear and vivid conception of the event described, 
it is approved by good taste. It will be noticed in examin- 
ing examples of this kind, that there is some apparent foun- 
dation for the exaggeration used. What is asserted does 
not at once strike the mind as improbable, though upon re- 
flection it is seen to be impossible. Hence, when an exag- 
geration appears at first view both improbable and impossi- 
ble, the effect is unfavorable. Such is the example given 
by Dr. Blair ; 

" I found her on the floor 
In all the storm of grief, yet beautiful, 
Pouring out tears at such a lavish rate, 
That were the world on fire, they might have drowned 
The wrath of heaven, and quenched the mighty ruin." 

The following is from Milman's Belshazzar ; 

" Oh maid ! thou art so beauteous 
That yon bright moon is rising, all in haste 
To gaze on thee." 

This example evidently differs from the preceding, since 



ON LITERARY TASTE. 115 

it is rather the language of adulation than of passion. In 
the use of Hyperboles of this kind, much skill is necessary. 
They should appear to be naturally suggested, and not be 
too bold, nor pursued too far. This last caution is one of 
general application to all instances of exaggeration ; for 
?ven to the extravagance of passion there is a limit, and if 
this limit be passed, the effect must be to disgust. Whai 
this limit is in any particular case, the good sense of every 
one must determine. 

It has been my object in this chapter to direct the atten- 
tion of the student to those attempts to please by exciting 
emotions of taste, which are of most frequent occurrence. 
At the same time, such cautions and directions have been 
given, as are cf mos 1 practical importance. There are be- 
sides certain nameless graces, which are the objects of the 
attention o*' literary taste. But these, except such as may 
be mentioned in describing the qualities of a good styie, 
must be left to be pointed out by the instructor. 

In concluding this chapter, I would recommend to the 
student the study of models of excellence in literature. The 
value of these models to the learner, and the manner in 
which the study of them tends to the improvement of a lit 
erary taste, may be inferred from what was said n a preced- 
ing chapter. It is not enough that the productions of good 
writers are read. They must be studied as models of style. 
Let the student in literature imitate in this respect the 
course pursued by the artist in the acquisition of skill in his 
profession. The painter does not rest satisfied with a sin- 
gle look at a fine picture. He emphatically studies it, both 
as to its design and execution. Knowing that it is fitted to 
give pleasure, he would discover wherein its excellency 
consists ; and thus derives from the study of it, rules which 
may guide him in his own efforts, and assist in his judgment 
of the works of others. At the same time, from his famil- 



116 ON LITERARY TASTE. 

iarity with works of excellence, his taste becomes in a raa»» 
ner assimilated to the tastes of those who are the masters of 
the art. The same is true in literature, and hence it is, 
that familiarity with the best literary productions, both of 
our own language and of other languages, is so highly con- 
ducive to excellence as a writer. The remark is often made, 
that the best writers are almost uniformly the best classical 
scholars. The connexion here stated, may easily be explain- 
ed. The models of fine writing, which have come down 
to us from former periods of the world, furnish ample oppor- 
tunity for the exercise of the imagination and the improve- 
ment of the taste. To him then who aspires to become a 
good writer, I would recommend the study of those ancient 
models, with all the earnestness of Horace, Nocturna cersute 
manu versate diurna. 



CHAPTER FOURTH 



ON SKILL IN THE USE OF LANGUAGE. 

Valuable thoughts, extensive knowledge, tne ability to 
reason justly, and good literary taste, are essential to foira 
the good writer, in whatever language he may compose. 
They are therefore rightly called the foundations of a good 
style. But it was stated in the Introduction, that in addi- 
tion to these requisites for good writing, there must be skill 
in the use of language. This then is the next object of 
attention. 

To use the English language skilfully, implies that the 
writer selects his words and composes his sentences, in a 
manner, which accurately and clearly conveys to those able 
to read this language, the thoughts existing in his own mind. 
With the design then of aiding the young writer in the ac- 
quisition of this skill, I shall treat of the nature and prin- 
ciples of Verbal Criticism, and afterwards state the rules and 
cautions to be observed in the composition of sentences 

Section I. — On Verbal Criticism. 

Nature and necessity of Verbal Criticism. 

When Cortez landed on the Coasts of South America, in 
formation was immediately given to the king of Mexico of 



118 ON VERBAL CRITICISM. 

lis arrival and of the appearance of his troops. The de- 
spatches which were sent, consisted of pictures represent- 
ing the appearance of the ships, the disembarking of men, 
their arms and equipments and military array. Had Mon- 
tezuma, with a company of his subjects, arrived at the same 
period of the world on the coasts of England, an account 
of his arrival and appearance would have been sent to the 
king of that country ; but in this case, instead of pictures 
words would have been used in conveying the information; 
and the king of England, upon looking on the words, would 
have had as correct and distinct information of the arrival 
and appearance of Montezuma and his troops, as was ob- 
tained in the former instance from looking on the pictures. 
Hence we infer, that words answer the same purpose as pic- 
tures ; they bring up to the mind subjects and thoughts 
which they are designed to represent. 

Suppose next, that Montezuma, with his troops, after 
leaving the coast of England, had visited those of Spain 
Information of his arrival and appearance would have been 
sent to the monarch of that country; and in sending this 
information, as in the case of the king of England, word? 
would have been used. But though the words used for con 
veying this intelligence, would in this case have been differ- 
ent from those before used, still they would represent the 
same objects, and be as readily understood. Different word? 
then in different languages represent the same objects. Hence 
we infer, that there is no natural connexion between wordz 
and the objects which they represent. 

Suppose next, that the event of Montezuma's arrival on 
the English coast had occurred during the thirteenth cen- 
tury, instead of the sixteenth. In this case, an account 
might have been sent to the king of England in writing, as 
before, but the words used, would not be intelligible to those 
who speak and write the English language at the present 



ON VERBAL CRITICISM 119 

aay. This we infer from the fact, that some fragments of 
writings of that period in the English languEge, which now 
remain, are not intelligible. Hence we learn, not only that 
different words are used to express the same thoughts in 
different languages, but that at different periods different 
words are used in the same language, as the symbols of the 
same object. 

Now from these facts, that words are but signs — that 
there is no natural connexion between them and the objects 
which they represent — and that the words of a language 
are changing, some becoming obsolete, and others gaining 
admission, arises the necessity of verbal criticism ; the ob- 
ject of which is to establish those principles, and lay down 
those rules, which may direct writers in the selection of right 
words for expressing their thoughts. If words, like pictures, 
were the exact representatives of objects, or the same word 
always, in every period in the history of a language, and 
whenever used, had the same thought attached to it by all 
who speak or write the language, there would evidently be 
no necessity for verbal criticism. In learning a language, 
we should acquire the knowledge of the correct and uniform 
use of each word, and we should then be in no danger of 
using it incorrectly. 

Good use the standard of appeals in all decisions of Verbal 
Criticism. 

Suppose that in a recent publication, I should meet with 
the following expression; " When the trial came on, he oc- 
cupied this man as a witness." I at once say, that the 
word occupy is here incorrectly used. Should any one 
ask me, on what authority I make this assertion, I should 
answer, that the signification given to it, is different from 
that which it has in the writings of those, who are esteem- 



120 ON VERBAL CRITICISM. 

ed good authors in the English language. I should turn tc 
several passages in the writings of Addison, Swift, Jeremy 
Taylor, and perhaps others of the same repute, and show 
him, that the common meaning of the word, is to possess — 
to hold or to keep for use, and I would then challenge him 
to show me the word, as used in the passage in dispute, 
in the writings of these authors, or of any author who is re- 
puted a good writer. 

Suppose, now, that my opponent should say, that he had 
found the word occupy, used in the sense to make use of, in 
the writings of Sir Thomas More, who wrote at the close of 
the fifteenth, or near the commencement of the sixteenth 
century ; and at the same time acknowledge, that he could 
not find it thus used in any writer, since that period ; I 
should tell him in reply, that this is no authority for its be- 
ing used in this sense at the present time. If for three cen« 
turies the word has ceased to be thus used by English wri« 
ters, it is not now a part of the English language. It has 
become obsolete, and to English readers, it is no longer the 
sign or symbol, with which the idea to make use of is con- 
nected. 

Suppose, next, that my opponent should assert, that he 
has found the word thus used in some newspaper, and that 
he considers the editor of that newspaper a good writer. I 
should answer him, that it is not enough, that one individ- 
ual esteems the editor of the newspaper in which the word 
n question is found, a good writer. He must generally be 
reputed as such. And even if he were so reputed, it is not 
enough that one good writer has thus used the word in dis 
pute. This will not make the word, as thus used, a part ot 
the English language, and cause it to be generally under 
stood in this sense. 

Suppose, once more, that my opponent should assert, 
that the word occupy is thus used in his own neighborhood, 



ON VERBAL CRI1 CISM. 121 

acknowledging at the same time, that he had not heard it 
so used in other parts of the country. I should answer him 
again, that this local use of it does not make it a part of the 
English language. It may be a part of the language of the 
town where he resides, but it would not be right to use it in 
this signification, in a work intended to be read by all those 
who read the English language. It would not convey a 
right meaning, or be intelligible to any, excepting those of 
a single town or village in the country. 

The case would be similar, supposing my opponent should 
assert, that lawyers, or those of any particular profession, 
are wont to use the word in the sense for which he contends 
I might allow that the word occupy is thus correctly used, 
and at the same time contend, that this professional usage 
does not authorize its introduction with the same significa- 
tion into works addressed to all who read the English lan- 
guage. Lawyers, and those of other professions, have ma- 
ny terms in use, which are peculiar to the profession, and 
which are not expected to be understood by those unac- 
quainted with its mysteries. 

From these statements, we learn in what manner each 
word in a language becomes the symbol of a particular ob- 
ject. It is by conventional agreement. All who speak the 
language, are supposed to have entered into an agreement, 
to use and understand the word in this sense. When there- 
fore we would know in respect to any particular word, 
whether it belongs to a language, we are to inquire, if it is 
found in the writings and heard in the conversation of these 
who write and speak the language. If it is not thus found, 
the use of it is called a Barbarism, and is to be avoided. 

We iearn further from the views now given, in what 

manner we may ascertain the proper use of those words 

which belong to the language. It is by an appeal to Good 

Usage. We are first to inquire, how the word in question 

11 



122 ON VERBAL CRITICISM. 

is used by those who are generally reputed good writers 
This is called reputable usage, and is cpposed to vulgar usage 
on the one hand, and to partial or limited usage on the 
other. We are in the next place to ask, whether the wri- 
tings to which we look as authorities, are reputed to be 
good by those who at the present time speak and write the 
language. This is present usage, and is opposed to ancient 
or obsolete usage. The inquiry further arises, whether the 
word in question is used in the sense ascribed to it, wherev- 
er the language to which it belongs, is spoken; and this is 
national usage, as opposed to foreign, to provincial or to 
professional usage. Thus Good Usage includes reputable, 
national, and present usage ; and when a word is found in 
a sense which is not supported by good usage, as thus ex 
plained, it is called an impropriety, and is to be shunned 

Nature and design of a Dictionary. 

From this view of the standard in verbal criticism, may 
be learnt the nature and design of a Dictionary. When 
wishing to show my opponent, that the word occupy is used 
by authors of reputation, in a different sense from that 
which he defends, instead of seeking for passages, in which 
the word is used by different authors, I should have turned 
to the word in my Dictionary, and there have found the re- 
sult, to which the compiler of the Dictionary had been led 
from an examination, such as I proposed. Hence it may 
be seen, why Johnson's Dictionary is sometimes called the 
standard of the English language. He has carefully inves- 
tigated the meaning of words, as used by authors of reputa- 
tion, and has given us the results, to which, from these in- 
vestigations, he has been led ; and confiding in his fidelity 
and good judgment, we appeal to him as a standard 



ON VERBAL CRITICISM. 123 



Manner in wide** changes in a language are effected. 

From this view also, may be learnt the manner, in which 
old and long established words become obsolete, and new 
ones are introduced. When a word, from the harshness of 
ix,$ sound, from any indefiniteness in its meaning, from its 
being no longer needed, or from any other cause, ceases to 
be in use by writers of reputation, for a considerable time, 
it is said to become obsolete, and is no longer considered a 
part of the language. 

On the other hand, every new word that is introduced 
into a language, must be first proposed by some author of 
reputation. If it is thought necessary — if it expresses the 
meaning attached to it better than any other word, or is 
more harmonious than another word before used in the 
same sense, it is adopted by other writers of reputation, and 
thus becomes a part of the language. If it is thought un- 
necessary, it is not adopted, and the ar tempt to introduce 
it fails. While then inconvenience is experienced from 
the changes of language, in that the authors of one period 
are thus rendered unintelligible at another, this evil is bal- 
anced by the introduction of more significant and harmo- 
nious words. No new word however should ever be ad- 
mitted, which is not decidedly an improvement. On the oth- 
er hand, a word which is unharmonious in its sound, or 
which, from any newly associated idea, becomes unfit for 
the use formerly made of it, though its use be supported by 
the authority of good writers, should be objects _ by crit- 
ics, and be suffered by writers to become obsolete. These 
remarks hold true, whether the word in question be entire- 
ly of new formation, whether it be made up of two or more 
words compounded together, or be introduced with or with- 
out modification from some other language. 



124 ON VERBAL CRITICISM, 



It may here be asked, — for how long a period must a 
word have been disused by the repu^ble writers in a lan- 
guage, to make it obsolete 1 To this inquiry, no definite 
answer has been given. Campbell has proposed, that a 
generation, or age of human existence, should be considered 
a limit, and this rule is generally adopted. 

Greater liberty however is given to poetical writers in the 
use of ancient words, and to scientific writers in the inven- 
tion of new terms, than to those who are authors in other 
kinds of writing. The same word, which in a prose writer 
would be objected to as an obsolete term, might in poetry 
be received as supported by good authority. This indul- 
gence is granted to poetry in consideration of the embar- 
rassments of rhyme and of measure, which require a copi- 
ousness of language. On the other hand, science is pro- 
gressive. New terms must be found to express new dis- 
coveries and inventions. The use of old words in new sig- 
nifications, would obviously create obscurity and mistake, 
and it is thought better, that new words should be introduced 
when new objects are to be represented. It is also com- 
mon for writers on scientific subjects, to define the most 
important words in their works, especially those which are 
new or peculiar to the science. This liberty is given them, 
and it is expected in return, that they will be uniform in 
the use of the word in the sense defined. 

In connexion with these remarks, the influence of criti- 
cism on language, may be mentioned. Its object is the im- 
provement of the language — the avoiding of all harsh, un« 
harmonic"" A-ords, and of those also which, from their ety 
mology, or any other cause, are peculiarly liable to be mis- 
understood. This object is effected, not by the exercise of 
any authority, but by pointing out the offensive word to the 
notice of the public, and diss lading from its use 



ON VERBAL CRITICISM. 125 



Good use not always uniform in her decisions ; rules which 
should guide us where these decisions are at variance with 
each other. 

Suppose that I should meet with the following sentence . 
" Beside he was a cotemporary writer of great delicateness 
of expression, and highly approved of." I might object to 
it, and say that besides would be better than beside — con- 
temporary than cotemporary — delicacy than delicateness, 
and approved than approved of. Should I, in support of 
my criticisms, appeal to good usage, and mention several 
authors of reputation, in whose writings the forms of these 
words which I prefer, are uniformly used, it might be said 
.xi reply, that those forms which I condemn, are also found 
in the writings of authors of equally good reputation ; and 
this could not be denied. In these instances good use is 
not uniform in her decisions ; ana it is necessary that some 
other principles should be referred to, in determining which 
of these forms of words is preferable. I might say then, that 
the word beside is used often as a preposition, and that 
where there are two forms of a word, each of which is sup- 
ported by the authority of good authors, but one of these 
forms is sometimes differently used, it should be restricted 
to this particular use, and the other form alone used in that 
sense, which has hitherto been common to both. Both 
perspicuity and variety evidently require this. 

In preferring contemporary to cotemporary, I might plead 
the analogy of the language. Whenever the inseparable 
preposition con precedes a consonant in composition, the n 
is retained ; we say conglomerate, conglutinate, concomitant 
To this, copartner is the only exception. But if this par 
icle in composition precedes a vowel, we use the form co 
11* 



126 



ON VERBAL CRITICISM. 



as coequal, coeternal* Hence in the present case, the anal 
ogy of the language requires that we say contemporary. 

For preferring delicacy to delicateness, supposing the au- 
thorities on either side equal, I can give no other reason, than 
that it is more agreeable to the ear. Here then harmony of 
sound is the principle on which a decision is made. 

In the other instance of criticism, where I prefer approved 
to approved of, simplicity of expression is the ground of 
choice. It is well known, that the use of numerous parti- 
cles is a defect of our language. It weakens the strength 
of expression. The more simple and brief the form which 
is used, the better. 

In instances then where good use is not uniform in her 
decisions, perspicuity and variety as leading to appropriate 
words to one uniform signification, — the analogy of the lan- 
guage, harmony of sound, and simplicity of expression, are 
the principles to which we should refer. 

These principles are stated in the following rules, which 
may be applied to the examination of the examples referred 
to at the close of the chapter. 

Rule 1. When two forms of a word have been used with 
the same signification, but one of them is sometimes found 
used in a different sense, the latter form should be restrict- 
ed in its use to this latter meaning, and the other form used 
in that sense which has hitherto been common to both. 



* Appeals are so often made to the analogy of the language, in 
determining questions which pertain to the use of words, that it is 
important the student should rightly understand the meaning of thi? 
phrase. In reasoning from the analogy of the language, we first 
assign a word to a class of words, to which, from some similarity in 
its form, its derivation, its composition, or some other circumstances 
it bears a close resemblance. We then apply the rules and principles 
of this class of words to the individual word. Thus we assign the 
word contemporary to a class of words compounded of the inseparable 
particle con as a prefix. We then, as in the text, apply a rule of the 
class to the individual word. Departures from the analogy of th* 
anguage are called Anomalies 



ON VERBAL CRITICISM. 127 

Rule 2. Of two forms of a word which are each support- 
ed by a good use we should prefer that ,vhich is agreeable 
to the analogy of the language. 

Rule 3. If two forms of a word are supported by equal 
authority, and in other respects equally appropriate, the 
sound may determine us in our choice. 

Rule 4. In doubtful cases, when no one of the preced- 
ing rules will apply, simplicity should be the ground of pre£ 
erence. 



Cautions against the most frequent violations of the princi- 
ples of Verbal Criticism. 

From the statements that have now been made, we learn 
that to use words with propriety, is to use them in that man- 
ner which is authorized by writers of reputation. The most 
important of those rules, by which we are to be governed 
in cases where authorities are divided, have also been stated. 
Some of the most frequent violations of the principles of 
verbal Criticism will now be enumerated, and those cautions 
given which are most needed on this subject. 

" The lamb is tame in its disposition." — Here the word 
tame is incorrectly used for gentle ; — tameness is superin- 
duced by discipline — gentleness belongs to the natural dis- 
position. 

" Herschel discovered the telescope." — In this sentence 
the word discover is incorrectly used for invent. We dis- 
cover what was before hidden ; we invent what is new. 

" Caius Mucius displayed courage, when he stood un- 
moved with his hand in the fire." 

Here courage is incorrectly used for fortitude. It is 
courage that enables us to meet danger ; but fortitude gives 
is strength to endure pain. 

In these instances > the words which are subetituted, re- 



28 ON VERBAL CRITICISM. 

semble in meaning those which are displaced. Such words 
are said to be synonymous. They agree in expressing the 
same principal idea, but some accessory circumstance tro- 
duces a shade of difference in their meaning. As the Eng- 
lish language is characterized by copiousness, there is great 
danger of confounding terms which are synonymous. Hence 
in the use of words, care should be had, lest we confound 
those which are synonymous. 

" The observation of days of Thanksgiving is common in 
New England." — Here the word observation is evidently 
used instead of observance, which it resembles in sound. 

" The endurance of his speech was for an hour." — Here 
the word endurance, which signifies suffering, is used for du 
ration, which implies length of time. It is true, that if a 
speech is dull, and continues for an hour, we may speak of 
the endurance of those who listen to it. But in the exam 
pie which is given, the word is wrongly used for dura 
tion. 

In these instances, a similarity of sound has led to mis- 
take. Hence, in the use of words, we sJwuld avoid confound- 
ing those ichich are similar in sound. 

" Meanwhile the Britons, left to shift for themselves 
were forced to call in the Saxons to their aid." 

" He passed his time at the court of St. James, currying 
favor with the minister." 

The expressions left to shift for themselves and currying 
favor, found in these sentences, are most frequently heard in 
the conversation of men destitute of refinement and informa- 
tion. They are beneath the dignity of the historical style 
Like clowns when admitted to the society of polite, well in 
formed men, they appear out of place. Other expressions* 
equally significant, and better suited to the subject, might 
be substituted. Hence then we learn, that low words ana 
phrases, or such as are usually termed vulgarism; , are to be 
avoided. 



ON VERBAL CRITICISM. 129 

We are liable to err in violation of this rule, from the cir- 
cumstance, that many words are used in common conversa- 
tion, which are not suited to the dignity of a written dis- 
course. I might hence infer the importance of keeping 
good company, and being choice in the selection of our 
words. Evil communications not only corrupt good man- 
ners, but good language. 

" I have considered the subject in its integrity." 

The writer here means, that he has considered the whole 
of the subject ; but in expressing this idea, he uses a word 
in its Latin signification. Integrity, in the sense of whole- 
ness, is not in common use by those who correctly write and 
speak the English language. Other instances might be ci- 
ted, in which words have ascribed to them a meaning derived 
from the Greek, French, or some other language. Hence 
such instances are called Latinisms, Grecisms, etc Be- 
sides the obscurity, which must thus be caused to nose who 
are ignorant of the meaning of the word in its native lan- 
guage, there is an air of pedantry about expressions of this 
kind, which renders them disgusting. Hence then the 
caution may be given, Avoid using words in foreign sig- 
nifications. 

We not unfrequently find in reputable English writers, 
words and phrases which belong to a foreign language 
Among those most frequently introduced are the following ; 
coup d'oeii — corps de reserve — stans pede in uno — mis- 
cere utile dulci. Sometimes this practice is carried to an 
extent, which savors of pedantry, and to one unacquainted 
with the language of the quotations, obscures the meaning. 
Foreign words and phrases, when thus introduced, are de- 
signed either to convey some striking thought in a more 
bold, sententious manner, than could otherwise be done, 
or to give a happy turn of expression. Hence we infer the 
proper limit to be observed in their introduction. When- 



30 ON SENTENCES. 



ever we have in our own language a word or phrase equally 
expressive and striking, a writer cannot be justified in sup- 
planting it by the use of one that is foreign. 

The most frequent instances of the violation of the prin- 
ciples of Verbal Criticism, are in the introduction of new 
words. So much however has been said on this point, that 
it is unnecessary to give either examples or rules. 

The inquiry may here arise whether Johnson's Diction- 
ary, or any other, is to be regarded as a standard, to which 
we may in all cases refer for the decisions of Verbal Criti- 
cism ? To this inquiry I answer, that since the words of a 
language are ever changing, some becoming obsolete and 
others coming into use, it is impossible, from the nature of 
the case, that any Dictionary can continue, for a long time, 
to be a standard of good usage. In regard to Johnson, 
there are many words now in good use, which are not found 
in his Dictionary, and many there found, have become ob- 
solete in the sense he has ascribed to them. Where then 
is the standard ? The principles stated in this chapter give 
the answer. There is none, except that which the fished 
scholar forms for himself from his familiarity with good mod- 
els of writing. And if he possesses this familiarity, ha may 
conclude, that if a word strikes him as new or strei.ge, it 
should be considered a word used without good authority, 
and which, unless some necessity for its use exists, should 
be avoided. 



Section II. — On the Composition of Sentences. 

The design of this section is to treat of the composition 
of sentences, so far as the clear conveyance of the author' 
meaning depends on skill in the use of language. 

Sentences are either simple or complex. A simple sen 



ON SENTENCES. 131 



*ence consists of a single member. A complex sentence 
eonsists of several members, and these members are some- 
times subdivided into clauses. " The sun shines." This 
is a simple sentence. "The sun, that rises in the morning 
and sets at night, gives light to all those who dwell on the 
face of the earth " This is a complex sentence, and con- 
sists of two members, each of which is made up of two 
clauses. 

The principle by which the writer is guided in dividing 
a discourse into sentences, is, that where he makes this di- 
vision, he considers the exhibition of his thought as complete. 
Sometimes in making this exhibition several members are 
necessary ; and where these members are so closely con- 
nected, that the reader cannot stop before the conclusion 
of the sentence with any distinct thought in his mind, the 
sentence is called a period. If there is one or more places, 
where he may stop, a distinct thought having been stated, 
the sentence is called a loose sentence. This distinction 
will be clearly seen in the following examples. "If in 
America, as some of England's writers are endeavoring to 
convince her, she is hereafter to find an invidious rival, and 
a gigantic foe, she may thank those very writers, for having 
provoked that rivalship and irritated that hostility." This 
is a period ; and it will be noticed, that though there are 
several members and clauses, there is no place before the 
closn, where the reader may stop with a distinct view in his 
mini. This account of the period is in agreement with the 
etymology of the word. It signifies a circuit, and the 
thoi ;rht winds round, as it were, among the different mem- 
bers and clauses, till it is brought out full at the close. 
The following is a loose sentence. "These minor com- 
fort' are al. important in the estimation of narrow minds ; 
ana ney ei her do not perceive, or will not acknowledge, 
tnat hey \re more than counterbalanced among us by grea 



132 ON SENTENCES. 



and generally diffused blessings." Here it is evident, that 
we might stop at the word minds, and the thought would b8 
complete ; but had a full stop been placed there, what follows 
would not, in its present form, constitute a distinct sen- 
tence. 

The principles of construction in our language are equal- 
ly favorable to the period and the loose sentence. Hence 
in the productions of those esteemed the best writers in the 
language, sentences of both forms are found intermingled. 
Some writers incline more to the periodic structure ; others 
to the loose sentence. The prevalence of the former gives 
to style strength and power of expression, accompanied 
with a degree of stateliness and formality. On the contrary, 
where the loose sentence prevails, the style is generally 
characterized by ease and familiarity. Either, when long 
continued without interruption, becomes tiresome and dull. 
Hence the inference will be readily made, that neither form 
should prevail to the exclusion of the other; and further, 
that there should be an accommodation in this respect to 
the subject and occasion. 

Since sentences are made up of many words, and of 
clauses and members, it will readily occur, that the forms 
which they assume, will be many and various, and some of 
these forms will be best suited to one subject and occasion, 
and others to a different. Vain then would be the attempt 
to prescribe rules which should govern the writer in the 
composition of his sentences. Instead of this, those in- 
stances have been noticed, in which perspicuity is mos». 
frequently violated from want of skill in the use of language, 
and from the examples given, such cautions have been in- 
ferred, as may guard against similar violations of perspi 
cuity. 

The examples first given are of simple sentences and of 
the members and clauses which make up complex senten 



ON SENTENCES. 133 



ees. These are classed under the following heads ; 1 
Equivocal words and phrases. 2. Ambiguous constructions. 
3. Wrong arrangement of adverbs and adverbial phrases. 

The composition of complex sentences is next examined 
with reference to the same object. Connectives are after- 
wards separately considered. 

1. Equivocal words and phrases. 

A word or phrase is called equivocal, when on the author- 
ity of good usage different significations are at different times 
applied to it. The true meaning of such words is to be de- 
termined from their connexion with other parts of the sen 
tence. Hence the danger of obscurity in their use. 

Examples of the preposition. 

"I am persuaded that neither death nor life — shall be able to sep 
arate us from the love of God." 

In this sentence, the love of God, may signify God's love 
to us or our love to him. This equivocation may be avoided 
by changing the last clause into the following form — from 
our love to God; of being more correctly used before the 
subject, and to before the object of a passion. The design 
of prepositions is to express the relations between different 
words, and since many of the prepositions express different 
relations, there is much need of caution lest they be used 
equivocally. 

Example of the conjunction. 

" They were much more ancient among the Persians than Zoro- 
aster or Zerdusht." 

In this example, the or is equivocal. It may either be 
aftaerstood as coupling together Zoroaster and Zerdusht, as 
two synonymous words, or, as a disjunctive conjunction, it 
may imply that Zoroaster and Zerdusht are two different 
Jungs. Were the latter the meaning of the writer, the word 
12 



!#4 ON SENTENCES. 



either shouli be inserted before Zoroaster. But if he de« 
signs to ,se the word as a copulative, when the words thus 
connected are not generally known to be synonymous, some 
clause may be thrown in to denote that they are thus used 
In the example given, it might have read — than Zoroaster, 
or, as he is also called, Zerdusht. When, in such instances, 
the first noun follows an article or preposition, or both, the 
equivocation may be avoided, by repeating the article, or 
pi cposition, or both, before the second noun, if the conjunct 
tion be used disjunctively , and omitting to repeat it, if it be 
used copulatively. 

Example of the noun. 

" Your majesty has lost all hopes of future excises oy their con 
sumption." 

The word consumption may be either passive or active. 
It may mean, either by their being consumed, or by their 
consuming. The equivocation in this sentence results from 
the double use of the word consumption. Words of this kind 
are not to be avoided, when the connexion plainly deter- 
mines which of the meanings is intended ; but when this is 
not the case, some other word, or some other form of expres- 
sion, should be selected. In the example given, it should 
be read, on what they may consume. 

Example of the adjective. 

" As for such animals as are mortal, or noxious, we have a right 
to destroy them." 

It is the design of the writer to use the word mortal as 
signifying destructive, or causing death, whereas the mean- 
ing most obviously suggested, is liable to death. This may 
be more correctly called an impropriety than an equivoca 
tion ; sinc3 it results from the application of a qualifying 
word in a 3ense different from that, which is authorized by 



ON VERBAL CRITICISM. 135 

good usage We speak of a mortal poison, or of a mortal 
disease, meaning a destructive poison or disease ; but when 
we speak of a mortal animal, it is always in the sense of an 
animal liable to death. This example suggests the need of 
caution in the use of adjectives, when usage has given them 
different significations as applied to different nouns. 
Example of the verb. 

" The next refuge was to say, it was overlooked by one man, and 
many passages wholly written by another." 

The word overlooked may here signify revised, or it may 
signify neglected. The equivocation in this example, like 
tnat in the example of the noun, results from the use of a 
word to which usage has given a double meaning. It may 
here then be said, as in that instance, that if the connexion 
does not readily suggest which of these meanings is intend- 
ed, some other word or form of expression should be chosen. 
In this example, the meaning of the author would be ex- 
pressed without equivocation by the word revised. 

Of equivocal phrases, the following may be mentioned, 
not the least — not the smallest. These phrases may signify 
in direct opposition, not any, or very great. But it is un- 
necessary to give examples of the use of these and similar 
phrases, as they are made the subjects of grammatical criti- 
cism. It may be said generally, that such equivocal phrases 
should be avoided. 

2. Ambiguous constructions. 

By construction, as the word is applied to sentences, is 
meant the forming of the sentence in such a manner, that 
the relations and connexions between the different parts of 
it may be made known. The standard of correctness in the 
eonstruction of sentences, as of propriety in the use of 
words, is good usage. Every language has certain forms 
of construction, either peculiar to itself, or in common with 



136 ON SENTENCES. 



other languages. What these forms are, may be learnt from 
the conversation and writings of men of refinement and 
knowledge, who speaK and write the language. But as the 
Lexicographer has given us, in his Dictionary, the result of 
his inquiries after the proper signification of words ; in the 
same manner, the Grammarian gives us, in his Grammar, 
the results of his investigations as to what are the correct 
forms of construction. Correctness, then, in the construction 
of sentences, is to be learnt from the rules and principles 
of syntax. 

But a sentence may be correct in its construction, and 
still may carry to the reader a meaning different from that 
designed to be conveyed by the writer. In such instances, 
since the sentence is so constructed that two different mean- 
ings may be received from it, the construction is said to be 
ambiguous. Ambiguous constructions most frequently arise 
from the use of those words which are called connectives, 
and these, it will be remembered, are to be separately con- 
sidered. Some instances in the use of other parts of speech 
will now be given. 

Examples of the adjective. 

" God heapeth favors on his servants ever liberal and faithful." 

Is it God, or his servants, that are ever liberal and faith- 
ful '? It is obvious, that the construction would bear either 
meaning, and of course it is ambiguous. The ambiguity 
may be removed by altering the arrangement of the words, 
God, ever liberal and faithful, heapeth favors on his set- 
vants ; or God heapeth favors on his ever liberal and faith- 
ful servants. This altering of the arrangement of he word 
is in our language a change in the construction of the sen- 
tence. In languages where adjectives and substantives 
nave correspondent changes of termination, the reader may 
in this way most generally determine to which noun the ad 



ON SENTENCES. 137 



jective belongs; but in languages, as in the English, where 
adjectives have no change in their terminations, it is their 
arrangement, which must determine the nouns, with which 
they are to be connected. Hence then the caution may be 
given, To avoid ambiguity in the use of the adjective, let it 
be placed as near as practicable to the noun it is intended to 
qualify. 

There is another case, in which there is danger of ambi- 
guity in the use of adjectives. Sometimes, when two ad- 
jectives are used in connexion with the same noun, it is dif- 
ficult to determine, whether they are designed to express 
different qualities belonging to the same thing, or qualities 
belonging to different things, but which are included under 
the noun as a generic term. This is illustrated in the fol- 
lowing example : " The ecclesiastic and secular powers con- 
curred in those measures." Is it meant, that the powers 
which concurred, had both the qualities expressed by the 
adjectives, ecclesiastic and secular? or that one class of 
these powers was ecclesiastic, and the other secular? The 
latter meaning is no doubt that of the writer ; and it should 
have been expressed, " The ecclesiastic powers, and the 
secular, concurred in those measures." 

In cases of this kind, the following rule should be observ- 
ed : When the adjectives are designed to qualify the noun as 
expressing one thing, the noun should either precede or fol- 
low both adjectives ; but when the adjectives are to be un- 
derstood as qualifying different things included under the 
noun, the noun should follow the first adjective, and may 
he repeated or not after the second, as the harmony of the 
sentence may require ; and in this latter case, when an arti- 
cle or pi eposition precedes the first adjective, it should be re- 
peated b fore the second. 

By th s rule, the following version of a passage in the Bi 
ble, is to be censured. " Every scribe, instructed into the 
12* 



L'SS ON SENTENCES. 



kingdom of heaven, is like an householder, who bringeth 
out of his tieasury things new and old." It should read 
new things and old. 

Instead of saying, " Death is the common lot of all, of 
good men and bad," the passage should read, " of good men 
and of bad." 

Instead of saying, " How immense the difference be- 
tween the pious and profane," it should read, " between the 
pious and the profane." 

Example of the preposition. 

" You will seldom find a dull fellow of good education, but (if he 
happen to have any leisure on his hands) will turn his head to one 
of those two amusements for all fools of eminence, politics, or poe- 
try." 

On first reading this sentence, we are led to connect pol- 
itics and poetry with eminence, and make them all the ob- 
jects of the preposition of. But the true meaning of the 
writer is expressed, by inserting to before the words politics 
and poetry. The ambiguity in this case arises from the 
omission of the preposition, which leads the mind to sup- 
ply the copulative conjunction, and thus causes mistake. 
Hence the general remark may be made, that clearness in 
the construction of a sentence, is often secured by the repeti- 
tion of a preposition ; and the writer may be cautioned 
against its o?nission in such instances. 

Example of the noun. 

" The rising tomb a lofty column bore." 

Did the tomb bear the column, or the column bear the 
tomb ? Ambiguities of this kind result from the principles 
of our language, which makes no distinction in termination 
between the nominative and objective case, but leaves the 
<K)nstructi m to be determined by the arrangement of the 



ON SENTENCES. 139 

words. In prose, therefore, such ambiguities will rarely 
occur, because the nominative will be placed before the 
verb, and the objective will follow it. But in poetry, where 
inversion? are allowed, they will occur ; and the danger of 
mistake can be guarded against only by the connexion, ex- 
cept in instances, where, the possessive pronoun being used, 
it may determine the nominative by referring to it as its an 
tecedent ; as in the following example : 

" And thus the son his fervent sire addressed.' 

Here the pronoun his most naturally refers to son as its 
antecedent, and thus determines which is designed as the 
nominative, and which as the object of the. verb. 

3. I proceed now to mention the wrong position of ad- 
verbs and of adverbial phrases, as affecting the clearness of 
the sentence. Faults of this kind, it may be thought, are 
included under the solecism or grammatical blunders, since 
the rules of Syntax require, that adverbs should be placed 
near the words they are designed to qualify. But such in- 
stances are of so frequent occurrence, that a few will be 
mentioned. 

" The Romans understood liberty, at least as well as we." 

In hearing this sentence read aloud, with the emphasis 
upon liberty, we should be led to connect the adverb with 
this word. But should the emphasis be placed on the ad- 
verb itself, we should connect it with the concluding part 
of the sentence. It is better to change the position of the 
adverb, so that there can be no danger of mistaking the 
true meaning of the writer. The sentence is then more 
correctly constructed as follows : " The Romans under- 
nood liberty, as well at least as we." 

" Tieism can only be opposed to polytheism or atheism. 



I* J ON SENTENCES. 



" Theism can be opposed only to polytheism or atheism." 

" There is not perhaps any real beauty or deformity, more in one 
piece of matter, than in another.' 

" There is not perhaps any real beauty or deformity in one piece 
&f matter, more than in another." 

" Not only Jesuits can equivocate." 

* Jesuits can not only equivocate.' 

My design in stating this last example, is to shew, that 
the same word, according to its position in a sentence, may 
be either an adverb or an adjective, and consequently an 
essential difference in the sense be made. The meaning 
of the sentence, as first given, is, that Jesuits are not the 
only persons who can equivocate. In the second form of 
the sentence, the meaning is, Jesuits can not only equivo- 
cate, but they can do other things in addition. Hence then 
may be inferred the need of additional caution in the use of 
those words, which may be regarded either as adverbs or 
adjectives, according to their position in the sentence. 

Adverbial phrases are to be considered as adverbs, and 
should be placed near the word whose meaning they are de- 
signed to affect. Much skill is often requisite in so placing 
them, that the sentence may be easy and harmonious in 
its sound, and still retain its perspicuity. They are well 
compared to unsightly stones, which try the skill of the 
builder. As several examples will be given while treating 
of complex sentences, the further notice of them is here 
emitted. 

I proceed now to consider complex sentences, in refer- 
ence to perspicuity, so far as this quality depends on skill 
in the use of language ; and without arranging the faults 
which are mentioned under distinct heads, I shall give in- 
stances of sentences that are deficient in perspicuity, and 
infer from the examination of such instances several cau 
tions. 



ON SENTENCES. 14 



The following example is introduced, to shew the injuria 
DUtS effect on both the smoothness and perspicuity of a sen- 
tence, of separating prepositions from the words with whick 
they are grammatically connected. 

Example 1. — "Though virtue borrows no assistance from yet it 
may often be accompanied by, the advantages of fortune." 

It occurs to every one in reading a sentence constructed 
in this manner, that the easy flow of expression is checked, 
at the same time that we feel a sort of pain from the violent 
separation of two things, which ought to be united. In 
State papers, and legal instruments, where there is need of 
uncommon precision, sentences of this form may be allow 
ed, but on other occasions they should be avoided. 

Example 2. — " After we came to anchor, they put me on shore, 
where I was welcomed by all my friends, who received me with the 
greatest kindness." 

" Having come to anchor, I was put on shore, where I was wel 
corned by my friends, and received with the greatest kindness." 

Should the question arise, who, or what, is the predomi- 
nant subject of discourse in the first form of this sentence, 
it may be difficult at first view to answer. We, they, I, and 
who, referring to friends, are in different parts of this short, 
complex sentence, made the governing or leading words. 
In the corrected form there is one leading word, and all the 
parts are constructed with reference to this. In this way, 
the sentence is made more simple, and the meaning is more 
obvious. Hence then we infer, that there should be one 
leading word or clause in every sentence, and that the dif- 
ferent members and clauses should be so constructed and 
connected, as to be made subservient to this leading word or 
tlause. 



142 ON SENTENCES. 



Example 3. — " he had been guilty of a fault, for which his mu 
ter would have put him to death, had he not found an opportunity 
to escape out of his hands, and fled into the deserts of Numidia. 

and to flee into the deserts of Numidia." 

In the first form of this sentence, are found two clauses, 
" to escape out of his hands " and " fled into the deserts of 
Numidia," which have the same relation to the other part 
of the sentence, and are constructed differently. In one, 
the form is that of the infinitive ; in the other, of the past 
participle. In the sentence as corrected, this diversity is 
not found, and the meaning is more obvious. From this 
and similar examples may be inferred the following direc- 
tion ; When tico or more clauses have the same relation to 
other parts of the sentence, they should, if possible, be made 
similar in their construction. 

The two directions, that have now been given, should be 
particularly regarded in the composition of long sentences. 
It is generally supposed, that in long sentences there is al- 
ways danger of obscurity, and that they should be avoided. 
But let the two directions that have been given, be observ- 
ed — let there be a leading word or phrase in the sentence, 
and all the parts be similarly constructed, and have a com- 
mon reference to this leading part, and the sentence may be 
long without becoming obscure. This is seen in the fol- 
lowing example : 

" He can render essential service to his country, by assisting in 
the disinterested administration of the laws ; by watching over the 
principles and opinions of the lower classes around him ; by diffu- 
sing among them those lights which may be important to their weJ 
fare; by mingling frankly among them, gaining their confidence 
and becoming the immediate auditor of their complaints ; by inform, 
mg himself of their wants, and making himself a channel through 
which their grievances may be quietly communicated to the proper 
pources of mitigation ; or by becoming, if need be, the intrepid and 



ON SENTENCES. 43 



'incorruptible guardian of their liberties, the enlightened champion 
of their wants." 

Example 4. — "If he delights in these studies, (Mathematks,) 
ne can have enough of them. He may bury himself in them as 
deeply as he pleases. He may revel in them incessantly, and eat 
drink, and clothe himse^ with them." 

— "He may revel in them incessant y, and eat them, drink 

Ihem, and clothe himself with them." 

In the first form of this sentence, there is a solecism, 
arising from the ellipsis. According to the statement there 
made, a student may eat and drink himself with Mathemat- 
ics. The second form of the sentence is grammatically cor- 
rect, and expresses the meaning of the writer. This exam- 
ple then suggests the necessity of caution in the use of 
elliptical expressions.* 

Example 5. — " Whatever renders a period sweet and pleasant, 
makes it also graceful ; a good ear is the gift of nature ; it may be 
much improved, but not acquired by art; whoever is possessed of it, 
will rarely need dry critical precepts to enable him to judge of a 
true Tightness and melody of composition ; just numbers, accurate 
proportions, a musical symphony, magnificent figures, and that de- 
corum which is the result of all these, are unison to the human 
mind ; we are so framed by nature that their charm is irresistible." 

To make this sentence perspicuous, it would be necessa- 
ry to entirely remodel it. It is an example of the violation 
of those principles, on which a discourse is divided into sen- 
tences. It neither has one subject, nor is there a connex- 
ion between its different parts. We may infer from it the 
general direction ; Not to unite in the same sentence those 
thoughts and statements which are distinct, and but remote 
ly connected with each other. 

Example 6. — " It is not without a degree of patient attention and 

» . — i 

* See Rule 22, Syntax of Murray's Grammar 



144 ON SENTENCES. 



persevering diligence, greater than the generality are willing to be 
stow, though not greater than the object deserves, that the habit can 
be acquired of examining and judging of our own conduct with the 
same accuracy and impartiality as that of another." 

" The habit of examining our own conduct as accurately as that 
of another, and of judging of it with the same impartiality, cannot be 
acquired, without a degree of patient attention and persevering dil 
igence, not greater indeed than the object deserves, but greater than 
the generality are willing to bestow." 

This sentence is long, and the objection may be made to 
the first form of it, that no distinct meaning is conveyed to 
the mind, till we arrive nearly at its close. This prevents 
its being readily and fully comprehended. In the correct- 
ed form, the different parts are so arranged, that we take in 
the meaning of the different clauses as we proceed, and 
without difficulty or delay comprehend the full meaning of 
the entire sentence. The example then suggests the im- 
portant caution ; TJiat the different parts of long sentences 
be so constituted and arranged, that each part may be un 
derstood as the sentence proceeds, not leaving the meaning 
of the different parts as well as of the whole sentence to be 
gathered at its close. 

Most of the faults in the composition of complex senten- 
ces, are connected with those clauses, which express some 
circumstances of the actions or objects mentioned. Some 
of these clauses are less intimately connected with the main 
thought expressed in the sentence than others, and the wri- 
ter should always avoid crowding into one sentence more 
clauses expressing circumstances, than are absolutely neces- 
sary. But writers, sometimes, instead of observing this 
rule, bring into the same sentence circumstances, which 
are but very remotely connected with the leading thought 
of the sentence. One of our daily papers, in an account of 
a man frozen to death, says : " His head was supported by 
a bundle of clothing, but all efforts to revive the vital spark 



ON SENTENCES. 



145 



were fruitless." Now it may be asked, what connexion tne 
circumstance, that the man's " head was supported by a 
bundle of clothing," has with the want of success in at- 
tempts to restore him to life. 

Bat since there is difficulty in the right position of clauses, 
^ome directions will now be given, which may aid in their 
arrangement. 

Example 7. — " The moon was casting a pale light on the nume 
rous graves that were scattered before me, as it peered above the ho- 
rizon, when I opene ' the small gate of the church yard." 

" When 1 opened the small gate of the church yard, the moor, 
as it peered above the horizon, was casting a pale light on the nume- 
rous graves that lay scattered before me." 

Any one will allow, that the image brought before the 
mind in the second form of this sentence, is more distinct 
and vivid, than that presented in the first. Upon compar- 
ing the two forms of the sentence, it will be seen, that all 
that has been done, is to alter the position of clauses ex- 
pressing the circumstances of the action. Instead of be- 
ing introduced near the close of the sentence, they are placed 
at its commencement. From this and similar instances 
it is inferred that clauses expressing circumstances, must be 
placed as near as practicable to the beginning of a sen- 
tence. It is obvious that this direction will apply principal- 
ly to those clauses expressing time or place, and not to those 
which are designed to affect the meaning of particular parts 
of the sentence. 

Example 8. — " There will therefore be two trials in this town W 
that lime, which are punishable with death if a full court should at- 
ttefti." 

u At that time, therefore, if a full court should attend, there will 
be two trials which are punishable by death." 

The first form of this sentence conveys a meaning differ- 
13 



146 ON SENTENCES. 

ent from that intended to be conveyed by the writer. Ac- 
cording to this statement, the criminals might earnestly 
wish that a full court should not attend. This wrong mean 
ing is given, by connecting the clause " if a full court 
should attend " with the wrong part of the sentence. In 
the corrected form, the place of this clause is changed, and 
the meaning of the writer is clearly conveyed. Hence then 
the rule may be inferred, that clauses expressing circum- 
stances of the action, should be placed near that part of the 
sentence the meaning of which they are designed to affect. 

Example 9. — " Are these designs, which any man who is born a 
Briton, in any circumstances or in any situation, ought to be ashamed 
or afraid to avow ? " 

" Are these designs, which any man, who is born a Briton, ought, 
in any circumstances or in any situation, to be ashamed to avow? " 

'I his sentence consists of two members, the former end- 
ing at Briton, and the latter commencing with ought. The 
phrase " in any circumstances or in any situation," is in the 
first form thrown in between the two members, and may be 
connected with either. By changing its position, and con- 
necting it with the latter member of the sentence, all ambi- 
guity is removed. Hence we may infer the following rule : 
A clause or phrase expressing a circumstance, ought never 
to be placed between two principal members of a scntenci. 

Under the head of Connectives, are included those words, 
which are used to connect different sentences, or to connect 
different clauses and members of the same sentence. Much 
of the clearness and finish of style will depend upon the 
skilful use of this class of words. It is true, they are the 
articulations, or joints of a discourse ; but in a well written 
production, they are like the joints in the human frame 
which show forth the skill of the Maker, and are essentia, 
to the perfection of the work. 



OF CONNECTIVES. 



147 



A connective may be denned, as that word in a sentence 
or clause, which being neither expressed nor implied, it could 
not be discovered, that what is said in the sentence, or clause, 
has any connexion with what precedes. To show more fu] 
the nature of a connective, the following examples are given 

" It is difficult for the most wise and upright government to con- 
lect the abuses of remote delegated power, productive of unmeasured 
wealth, and protected by the boldness and strength of the same ill-got 
r iches. These abuses, full of their own wild native vigor, will grow 
and flourish under mere neglect." 

The connexion between the latter sentence and the pre- 
3eding, in this example, is denoted by the demonstrative pro- 
noun " these," followed by the word " abuses," which ex- 
presses the subject of the former sentence. That the con- 
nexion is expressed in the pronoun, is evident from the fact, 
that if the pronoun be omitted, what remains of the sentence 
expresses a distinct proposition without any connexion with 
what precedes. In some instances, the noun is not repeat- 
ed after the demonstrative pronoun, and in others, some 
synonymous word, or some word which brings to view the 
object of the preceding sentence, is joined to the pronoun 
Sometimes also the definite article, or possessive pronoun, 
is used for the demonstrative pronoun. But in all instances 
of this nature, the connexion is in the pronoun itself. 

" A true aristocracy is not a separate interest m the state, or sep 
arable from it. It is an essential integrant par of any large body 
nghtly constituted." 

Here the personal pronoun it is the connective. Exam- 
ples of this kind are frequent, and need no comment. 

11 The air, the earth and the water, teem with delighted existence. 
In a Spring noon or a Summer's evening, on whichever side w# 
turn our eyes, myriads of happy beings crowd upon our view." 



148 OF CONNECTIVES. 

This latter sentence, in this example, is intended to be il 
iustrative of the former, and though no connective is ex 
pressed, there is one easily supplied. Instances of this kind 
are also frequent. 

'* Let not the passions blight the intellect in the Spring of its ad 
yancement, nor indolence nor vice canker the promise of the heart 
in the blossom. Then shall the Summer of life be adorned with moral 
beauty." 

In this instance, the connecting word is then, which is a 
particle usually called an adverb, though by some gramma- 
rians considered as a conjunction when used, as in this in- 
stance, to connect sentences. But by whatever name it 
may be called, it is evidently one of those words, which, in the 
improvement of language, are inserted to save circumlocut- 
ion, and is here equivalent to the phrase, Let tins be done. 
'. nstances in which adverbs are used as connectives, may be 
resolved in this way into a phrase containing a demonstra- 
tive pronoun. 

" I certainly have very good wishes for the place of my Dirth 
But the sphere of mv duties is my true country." 

The connective in this example is the particle but, which 
is a conjunction. Should this be resolved, as in the last ex- 
ample, into what it is designed to express, it would be found 
equivalent to some phrase like the following; To this su- 
peradd. Of this mode of resolving conjunctions, I shall 
presently speak, and endeavor to shew, that where the con- 
junction is used as a connective, a pronoun is implied, 

The examples which have been given, are instances shew- 
ing the manner of connecting different sentences. The 
*ame means, together with relative pronouns, are used for 
connecting the different members and clauses of the same 
sentence. Of this common use of the relative pronoun no 



OB CONNECTIVES. 149 



«ample is needed. From this short view of the nature of 
connectives, I now proceed to give some cautions to guard 
against their wrong use. 

1. Of demonstrative and other pronouns except the rela- 
tive. 

It. has been "already remarked, that when pronouns of 
this class are used as connectives, it is generally the case, 
that either the noun which expresses the subject of the pre- 
ceding sentence, is repeated, or some synonymous word is 
used. When this is done, there can be little danger of mis- 
take. The only caution needed, is the general one, that 
whenever adjective pronouns are used as connectives, and 
the noun to which tb^y belong is left to be supplied by the 
reader, care should be had, that this noun be obvious. To 
effect this, the word to be supplied should be, 1. A word 
which the mind is accustomed to supply in similar cases. 
2. The leading word of the discourse. 3. A word that has 
just been mentioned, and is thus fully in the view of the 
reader. An example of each kind is subjoined. 

" The citizens of a free government must be enlightened and vir- 
tuous. To effect this, schools and the institutions for religious in- 
struction must be supported." 

Here the mind readily supplies the word object, referring 
L> what is mentioned in the preceding sentence. 

" This was not the tnumph of France." 

The subject of the discourse, from which this sentence 
is taken, is the removal of Louis XVI. from Versailles to 
Paris. The mind, in reading the passage, readily supplies a 
word or phrase expressing this subject. 

" He received the papers from the Secretary. These he is now 
on willing to return." 

13 » 



150 OF CONNECTIVES. 



In this example the word papers, having been recently 
mentioned, is easily supplied after the pronoun. 

Excepting in cases similar to those now mentioned, there 
is danger of obscurity in omitting the noun, which is de- 
signed to be connected with the pronoun. 

2. Of the relative pronoun. Under this head are includ- 
ed relative pronouns, properly so called, and other pronouns 
used as relatives. The danger of obscurity in the use of 
this class of pronouns as connectives, arises from uncertain- 
ty as to the antecedent. To prevent this in the construc- 
tion of sentences, some cautions will now be given. 

" It is folly to pretend to arm ourselves against the accidents of 
life by heaping up treasures, which nothing can protect us against, 
but the good providence of God." 

" It is folly to pretend, by heaping up treasures, to arm ourselves 
against the accidents of life which nothing can protect us against, 
but the good providence of God." 

In the first form of this example, the mind is led to refer 
the relative which to the word treasures, immediately preced- 
ing it. Upon examining the sentence, we perceive that the 
relative is designed to refer to accidents, and that we have 
been led astray by the intervention of a clause between the 
antecedent and relative. The position of this clause is dif- 
ferent in the corrected form of the sentence, and the true 
sense is then evident. Hence we infer the following rule 
In arranging the members and clauses of a sentence, the 
relative should be placed as near as possible to its antecc 
dent. 

" But I shall leave this subject to your management, and question 
not, but you will throw it into such light, as shall at once enter 
tain and improve your readers." 

In this sentence, the personal pronoun it, which is heic 
a relative, is remove 1 to some distance from the noun l« 



OF CONNECTIVES. 151 



which it refers. It would be difficult to make any altera- 
tion in the sentence, which would place it nearer. Neither 
is this necessary for the attainment of perspicuity, since 
we are in no danger of mistaking the right antecedent. 
Here then we are governed by a different principle from 
that which has just been mentioned ; and this principle is, 
the rank which different words ho.a in a sentence. The 
nominative and accusative, as the agent and object, are of 
more importance in a sentence, than other nouns which are 
dependent upon them. In the example given, the word sub- 
ject is the accusative, and of higher rank in the sentence, 
than the word management, which is connected with the 
accusative by a preposition, and thus made dependent upon 
it. Hence then we infer the following rule ; Wlien the 
sentence cannot be so modelled, that the relative may be 
"placed in close connexion with the antecedent, it should le 
made to refer to the leading noun of the sentence. 

"The orator deserves no credit for those benefits, however impor- 
tant, which result from the subject and occasion, which are often 
the true cause of that effect, which is generally supposed to be pro- 
duced by the man himself." 

" The orator deserves no credit for those benefits, however impor- 
tant, which result from the subject and occasion. These are often 
the true cause of that effect, which is generally supposed to be pro- 
duced by the man himself." 

In the first form of this example, the relative is used three 
different times, and in each instance with a different ante- 
cedent. This causes a want of perspicuity in the sentence. 
The oronoun is a substitute for the noun, and the effect of 
using the same relative with different antecedents in the 
same sentence, is a violation of perspicuity, similar to that 
which arises from the use of the same word in different 
senses. The difficulty is removed in the second form of 
the example by a division of the sentence. Hence then we 



152 OF CONNECTIVES. 



derive the direction, Avoid using the same relative twice at 
oftener in the same sentence with different antecedents. 

The preceding rules are designed to assist in so con 
structing the sentence, that no doubt may exist as to th€ 
right antecedent of the relative. But cases will occur, when 
it is impossible to prevent all ambiguity in the use of the 
relative pronoun. In such cases the noun itself may be 
repeated, or a division be made of the sentence, or in some 
other way the use of the pronoun may be avoided. Serine* 
times ambiguity in the use of the relative, may arise from a 
different source, as is seen in the following example. 

" 1 know that all words which are signs of complex ideas, furnish 
matter of mistake and cavil." 

" I know that all those words which are signs of complex ideas, 
furnish matter of mistake and cavil." 

In the first form of this example, though the relative is 
rightly placed in reference to the antecedent, still the true 
meaning of the author is not conveyed. He did not mean 
to say " that all words are signs of complex ideas," which 
is expressed by the words used ; but his design is, to affirm 
something of those words which are signs of complex ideas, 
Here then is ambiguity arising from a cause which has not 
been mentioned. To state this cause, it is necessary to 
mention a distinction between clauses introduced by the 
relative as explicative of the meaning of the antecedent, 
and those introduced as determinative of its meaning. 
" Man who is born of a woman, is of few days and full of 
trouble." " The man that endureth to the end, snail be 
saved." In the former of these sentences, the clause intro- 
duced by the relative is explicative. It merely points out 
some property of the antecedent, but does not affec* ?ts mean- 
ing as used in the given instance. It might be said of man 
that he is of few days and ful of trouble, though he were not 



OF CONNECTIVES. 153 



Dorn of a woman. In the other example, the relative intro- 
duces a determinative clause, which affects the meaning of 
the antecedent. It is not said that all men shall be saved, 
but only " he that endureth to the end ; " and the clause in- 
troduced by the relative cannot be removed without chang- 
ing entirely the meaning of the sentence. Now the clause 
introduced by the relative in the example at the head of this 
paragraph, is designed to be determinative in its effect on 
the antecedent. It has this force in the corrected form of 
the example, which is given to it by the insertion of the de- 
monstrative pronoun those before words. The same effect 
would have been produced by the insertion of the definite 
article. Hence then we infer the rule, TJiat whenever a 
clause which is designed to be determinative in its effect on 
the antecedent, is introduced by the relative, the antecedent 
should be preceded by the demonstrative pronoun, or the defi- 
nite article. 

3. Of conjunctions, and other particles. 

Every one acquainted with grammar, knows that adverbs 
are not essential parts of language, but that they might be 
dismissed, and the same meaning expressed by circumlo- 
cutions. It has been shewn by a late eminent philologist, 
that conjunctions are of tne same nature. They are obso- 
lete forms of verbs, and in the use of them an ellipsis is im- 
plied, in supplying which, where they serve the purpose of 
connectives, a pronoun is used. This is shewn in the fol 
lowing example ; " Faith cannot be perfect unless there be 
good works." Here, unless is to be considered as the im- 
perative of the obsolete verb onlessan, the signification of 
which is to dismiss. In supplying the implied ellipsis, 
the sentence will read; "Faith cannot be perfect to this 
dismiss there be good works." In this then, as in the pre- 
ceding examples, the real connective is a pronoun 



154 OF CONNECTIVES. 



In agreement with this account of conjunctions, it is 
found, that besides implying connexion, they express the 
manner of connexion, or the relation of one clause or mem- 
ber to another, or of one sentence to another. In doing 
this, they retain their original meaning, and hence the dif» 
ferent classes into which they are divided ; as the copula- 
tive, disjunctive, causal, illative, etc. ; all of which names are 
intended to shew the nature of the relation expressed by the 
conjunctions included under them. 

Skill, in the use of conjunctions, both as connectives and 
as shewing the relation between parts connected, is to be 
acquired from practice in writing, and from familiarity with 
good writers. It is also most frequently found united with 
clearness of thought, and accurate habits of reasoning. 
Hence no directions are here given to guide the writer in 
their use, but simply a few remarks offered, the reason and 
propriety of which, sound sense and good taste must per- 
ceive. 

1. Long conjunctions are to be avoided. Such are the 
words, nevertheless, notwithstanding, furthermore, foras- 
much. 

The improvement of our language has caused most of 
these conjunctions to give place to others, which are short- 
er; and as such words are but secondary parts of sen- 
tences, it is desirable that they should not occupy more 
room, and become more conspicuous, than is absolutely ne- 
cessary. 

2. The frequent recurrence of the same conjunction is 
to be avoided; especially if that conjunction consists of 
more than one syllable. The reason of this direction, as of 
the preceding, is to prevent conjunctions from appearing o« 
prominent. 

3. The accumulating of several conjunctions in the same 



OF CONNECTIVES. 155 



clause is to be avoided, unless their coalition be absolutely 
necessary, To aid in forming a judgment of what proprie- 
ty and the idiom of the language allow in such cases, the 
foi. owing remarks are made : 

Two conjunctions may follow each other, when one of 
hem serves to connect the sentence with what precedes, 
and the other to connect one clause in the sentence with 
another clause. " I go to prepare a place for you. And if 
I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and re- 
ceive you to myself." And is the connective of the senten- 
ces, and if of the clauses. 

Conjunctions of the same class may be united, but such 
coalitions are often unnecessary, and should be avoided. 
Examples of this kind are but however, and further, yet nev- 
trtheless, etc. In each of these instances, one of the con- 
junctions used is unnecessary. 

Conjunctions of different classes are often found united, 
and sometimes necessarily, but at others, when more care 
in the construction of the sentence would have rendered 
their union unnecessary. Of the propriety of such coali 
tions, a knowledge of the usage of the best writers, and o 
the original meaning of the conjunction, will enable us to 

judge- 
Conjunctions may often be left to be supplied by the 
reader. 

To use a conjunction wherever the sense would allow of 
one, would render a style heavy, and conduce but little to 
its perspicuity. Here, as in the former instance, the usage 
of good writers must decide. On the one hand, we are to 
guard against the omission of connectives to that degree, 
which might render the style defective and obscure. On 
he other, we are to avoid the too frequent use of them, 



156 OF CONNECTIVES. 



which would render our manner of writing awkward and 
defective. 

To these remarks on connectives, it may be added, that 
the abbreviations i. e., e. g. and viz. are in dignified com 
position to be avoided. 



CHAPTER FIFTH 



ON STYLE 



St* le is defined by Dr. Blair, to be " the peculiar man- 
ner in which a writer expresses his thoughts by words. It 
is a pictare of the ideas in the mind, and of the order in 
which they exist there." Buffon has more boldly and nap- 
pily said, " Style is the man himself." Let two individuals 
write on the same subject. We see in their productions 
their peculiar modes of thinking — the extent of their knowl- 
edge — their tastes and their feeling. The portrait executed 
by the most skilful painter, does not more fully represent 
the countenance, than the productions of the pen exhibit the 
characteristics of the mind. 

Consistently with this account of what is meant by style, 
the attention has been directed to thought as the foundation 
of good writing — to the nature and objects of literary taste, 
and to skill in the use of language. From what has been 
said on these different heads, it may easily be inferred, that 
there are some qualities of style, which are common to all 
good writers. But since style depends on the intellectual 
habits and acquirements — on literary taste, and on skill in 
Ihe use of language, each of which is possessed by different 
wdividuals in different degrees, it must be obvious, that the 
14 



158 



ON STYLE. 



modes of writing peculiar to different authors, will diffel 
according to their characteristic traits. Other diversities in 
style, arising from the subject and occasion, and characteristic 
of different classes of writing, will also be found. I pur- 
pose, therefore, in this chapter, to consider in three different 
sections, 1. The qualities of style common in some degree 
to all good writers ; 2. The different modes of writing which 
characterize different individuals; 3. The kinds of style 
suited to some of the more common classes of writing. To 
this will be added some general directions for improvement 
in style. 

Section 1. On the qualities of a good style. 

Correctness, as a quality of style, implies the use of 
words that are purely English in their true and proper sense, 
and the construction of phrases and sentences according to 
ihe rules of Grammar. Thus it is opposed to the Barba- 
rism, or the use of foreign words ; the Impropriety, or the 
use of words in a wrong sense; and the Solecism, or gram- 
matical blunder. Enough has been said in the section on 
Verbal Criticism, to guard the writer against the two former 
faults ; to prevent the latter, is the appropriate object of 
Syntax, and does not come within the limits of Rhetoric. 

Attention to this quality of style should be urged upon all 
those who would become good writers. It is equally neces- 
sary in all kinds of writing, and though it is not regarded 
as a high excellence, the absence of it is ever thought dis- 
graceful. Incorrectness in the use of words and in the con- 
struction of sentences, like inaccuracies of pronunciation, is 
considered as evidence of careless intellectual habits and an 
unfinished education. There is also something of the n» 
ture of incivility, when a writer asks us for our attention^ 



ON STYLE. 159 



and addresses us in language we cannot understand. Hence 
it is, that the faults which are opposed to correctness are 
pardoned with least willingness, and furnish occasions to 
critics for raillery at the expense of guilty writers. 

The different feelings with which we regard an instance 
of incorrectness in conversation and in writing, are worth 
our attention. If, in the ardor of conversation, a word is 
improperly used, or a sentence wrongly constructed, we are 
ready to ascribe the incorrectness to the impetuosity and 
hurry of the thoughts, or to the rapidity of the expression, 
and we overlook it. Not so in writing. Here is time for 
reflection, for the due arrangement of the thoughts, and the 
right modelling of the expression ; and though one or two 
instances of incorrectness may be forgiven, yet if they are 
of frequent occurrence, their effect on our opinion of the 
writer is unfavorable. 

It is unnecessary to repeat here what was said at the 
close of the section on Verbal Criticism, on the importance 
^f familiarity with authors of reputation, that we may attain 
propriety in the use of words. But it is not amiss to urge 
the necessity of a critical knowledge of the rules and prin- 
ciples of syntax. 

These rules, it is true, like those which relate to the 
choice of words, derive their authority from good usage, and 
the principles which they enjoin may be learnt from the 
study of good models in writing; still they are valuable, 
since they direct the attention to those cases where there is 
most danger of error, and give us the results to which those 
have been led who have carefully studied the subject. Let 
then an intimate knowledge of the principles and rules of 
syntax be considered essential toward forming a good style. 

Perspicuity is the next quality of a good style to be con- 
sidered. It implies that the expressions used are such as to 
convey, and clearly to convey, the true meaning of the writer 



160 ON STYLE. 



Thus defined, it is opposed to ambiguity and obscurities of 
every kind, from whatever source they may arise. 

In every system of Rhetoric, Perspicuity is dwelt upon as 
an essential quality of a good style. The argument, by 
which its observance is enforced, is simple and unanswer- 
able. We write to communicate to others our thoughts ; 
and, if we do not make ourselves understood, we fail of out 
object in writing. Neither is it enough that, by study, a 
meaning may be made out of the expressi6ns that we use. 
The meaning of a passage should be so obvious, as not only 
to prevent mistake, but to become evident at the first glance 
— so evident, that we cannot help discerning it. On this 
point Quinctilian has happily said, " Oratio in animum au- 
dientis, sicut sol in oculos, etiamsi in eum non intendatur, 
occurrat." * Perspicuity is a word of similar import to 
transparency, which is applied to air, to glass, and to 
water, or to any substance, through which, as a medium, 
we are wont to look at objects. Now it is well known that, 
if there be any defect in the medium through which we 
look, so that we do but imperfectly discern the object of our 
survey, we are liable to be deceived in our estimate of it ; 
our attention is also taken off from the object itself, and we 
are led to notice the want of perfect transparency — to ac- 
count for it, and to judge of its effect on our view of the 
object before us. But, on the other hand, if the medium be 
perfectly transparent, our undivided attention is directed to 
the object itself; and, while we see it distinctly, and judge 
of it correctly, we think not of the medium through which 
it is viewed. This illustration admits of close application 
to style. 

But the question may be asked ; Do not instances some* 
times occur, in which a degree of obscurity is desirable 

* The meaning of a discourse should strike the mind, as the light of 
the sun does the eyes, though they are not intently fixed upon it. 



ON STYLE. 



161 



Are there not some delicate turns or bold forms of expres 
sion, which lose nothing of their pertinency from the degree 
of obscurity which characterizes them ? and may not a re- 
gard for delicacy, or even decency, sometimes prevent the 
distinct enunciation of a thought? To these inquiries, it 
must be answered in the affirmative. Still such instances 
are but of rare occurrence, and upon examination of them, 
it will generally be seen, that the thought intended to be 
conveyed, is rather left to be inferred from what is said, 
than obscurely expressed in the words themselves. The 
expression itself perspicuously conveys what it was designed 
to convey. 

The following instance of a delicate turn of expression 
nappily illustrates this remark. Fontenelle in his address 
„o Dubois, who was guardian to Louis XV, in his mi- 
nority, says to him, "You will freely communicate to our 
young monarch that knowledge, which will fit him one day 
to govern for himself. You will strive with all your efforts 
to make yourself useless." This last phrase may be consid 
ered obscure. Fontenelle designed to say, " You will la- 
bor to impart so much knowledge to your ward, that your 
services will no longer be needed by him." But this is 
rather an inference from what is said, than what is conveyed 
in the words themselves. There is no obscurity as to the 
meaning of the expression itself. It is a singular fact, that 
a critic, in remarking on this passage, asserted, that no doubt 
Fontenelle said, or designed to say, useful instead of useless, 
and that the present reading is probably a typographical er- 
ror. From such critics may we be delivered ! 

But another inquiry on this subject has arisen, May not a 
writer be too perspicuous, and not leave enough to exercise 
the ingenuity and reflection of his readers? This question 
has arisen from ascribing the weariness and disgust, which 
are felt in reading some productions, to a wrong cause 
14* 



162 



ON STYLE. 



Some writers are minute to a fault. They mention everj 
little circumstance in a narrative — state with formality 
common and trivial thoughts — supply every step of an ar 
gument, and dwell upon what the ingenuity of their readers 
could better have supplied ; and such writers are always te- 
dious. But our ennui and disgust in reading their works, 
do not arise from the perspicuity of their expressions, but 
from their saying what had better been omitted. The fault 
is not so much in the manner of saying, as in what thev 
say. Often also is it the case, that these prolix and minute 
writers add to their other faults that of obscurity, and leave 
us to labor and search after that, which when attained does 
not reward our exertions. When then a writer is complain- 
ed of as too perspicuous, we may safely ascribe the fault to 
futility of thought, and not to excessive clearness of expres- 
sion. We never complain that glass is too transparent, and 
no more can style be too perspicuous. 

So far as perspicuity, thus explained, depends on the 
selection of words and the construction of sentences, the 
rules and principles found in the preceding chapter, are de- 
signed to aid in its attainment. An additional direction of 
some practical importance may here be given ; that in the 
selection of words and forms of expression, the writer adapt 
himself to those, for whom his production is primarily de 
signed. A story, or tract, intended for children, or for il 
literate persons, should be expressed in the most commop 
and familiar language. On the other hand, in those work? 
which are strictly of a literary and scientific class, and 
which are addressed to scholars, words and expressions of 
less frequent occurrence and less obvious import, may be 
introduced. Often, however, a production is designed for 
a promiscuous assembly, and here much skill may be exhib 
ited in its adaptation. The point to be aimed at, both in 
&v reasonings and language, is, that while there is nothing 



ON STYLE. lUtJ 

tedious or disgusting to any, the production may be level to 
the comprehension of all. It may be well, in writings 
of this class particularly, to select words of Saxon origin, in 
preference to those of foreign derivation, even though the 
latter should be in more common use among educated men. 
A different practice in this respect accounts for the fact, 
that some public teachers are much better under* ood by 
men of common education than others. Indeed a difference 
of this nature is observed in the writings of the same in- 
dividual, comparing his early productions with those written 
at a later period in life, when, by intercourse with the world, 
he has become more familiar with the language and modes 
of thinking of those around him. Some quaint, but judi- 
cious remarks on the selection of words, are found in the 
extract from the Rhetoric of Thomas Wilson in the history 
of English style at the close of this work, to which the stu- 
dent is referred. 

It is obvious to all, that distinctness and order in the 
thoughts, are essential to perspicuity. Let a writer's view 
of the subject be indistinct — let him but imperfectly under- 
stand what he would communicate to others, or let his 
thoughts be without method, and there will necessarily be 
indistinctness and confusion in his productions. This con- 
fusion of thought will betray itself in long, involved senten- 
ces, made up of loose and redundant expressions, the mean- 
ing of which it is difficult to divine. It sometimes seems 
as if the writer, aware of the indistinctness of his thoughts, 
would conceal it by the use of many words, thus hoping to 
throw the blame of obscurity, either on his subject, or on 
the discerning powers of his readers. Against violations of 
psrspicuity arising from this source, the observance of what 
was enjoined in the first chapter of this work, will be a suf 
ficient security. Let habits of patient, persevering and con- 
lected thinking be acquired, and it will seldom be the case 



164 ON STYLE. 



™ 

Sue 



that a want of perspicuity will arise from confusion oi 
thought. 

It was stated, when treating of the illustrations and orna- 
ments of style, that when heterogeneous objects are brought 
together, a confused and disproportionate image will rise to 
the view of the mind. Here is another source of obscurity 
ucn attempts at illustration and ornament are called an af- 
fectation of excellence, and tend to darken and deform those 
objects, around which they are designed to throw light 
and beauty. It is unnecessary here to give examples of 
faults of this kind, or to repeat what was before said. The 
remedy for such violations of perspicuity is improvement of 
the taste. 

Before leaving the subject of perspicuity, the student 
should be reminded, that writers become obscure, not only 
from indistinctness and confusion in their conceptions, but 
from the- reverse — from familiarity with their subject. 
They forget that what, from having long been the object of 
their contemplation, is known to them in all its relations and 
in all parts, is often to their readers new and strange, and 
hence they omit those parts of a statement, which are essen- 
tial to its being fully understood. From this cause also, 
writers are often led to construct long and involved senten- 
ces, the full meaning of any part of which cannot be known 
till the reader has reached its close. (See page 143.) To 
prevent obscurity from this source, a revision, when the ar 
dor of composition has passed away, will be advantageous 

A good style, in addition to Correctness and Perspicuity, 
will be characterized by vivacity. This quality of style 
implies, that the thoughts are exhibited with distinctness 
before the mind of the reader, and in a manner which ar- 
rests and fixes his attention. It gives evidence that the 
writer is interested in the subject on which he treats, and 
springs from a desire to awaken the sane interest in the 



ON STYLE 165 



minds of his readers. Viewed in this light, it is an effort 
on the part of the writer to supply, in a written discourse, 
what is effected, in conversation, by the tones of the voice 
and the expression of the countenance. As it is a quality 
of high excellence, and conduces much to the success of the 
writer, the different circumstances which are favorable to its 
attainment, will be distinctly considered. 

Vivacity is promoted by the happy choice of words. Un- 
der this head I mention, 

1. The use of specific and appropriate terms, in prefer- 
ence to those which are more general and extensive in their 
meaning, and of well-chosen epithets. 

The following passage, found in one of the Waverley 
Novels, affords opportunity for illustrating and establishing 
what is here stated. 

" The moon, which was now high, and twinkled with all the vi- 
vacity of a frosty atmosphere, silvered the windings of the river, and 
the peaks and precipices which the mist left visible — while her 
beams seemed, as it were, absorbed by the fleecy whiteness of the 
mist, where it lay thick and condensed, and gave to the more light 
and vapory specks, which were elsewhere visible, a sort of filmy 
transparency resembling the lightest veil of silvery gauze." 

An inferior writer, describing the same scene, mignt 
have said, — 

" The moon, which was now high, and shone with all the brighlness 
of a frosty atmosphere, lighted the windings of the river, and the tops 
and steep sides of the mountains which the mist left visible — while 
her beams seemed, as it were, absorbed by the whiteness of the mist, 
where it lay thick and condensed, and gave to the more light and 
vaporj ittle collections of mist, which were elsewhere visible, a sort 
of transparent resembling a veil of gauze." 

In directing the attention to the diversities in the two 
forms of the preceding sentence, the use of the wora 



166 ON STYLE. 



twinkled for shone first occurs. Every one will allow, that 
the word twinkled, as here used, is more expressive than the 
word shone ; since it not only conveys what is conveyed by 
the word shone, but something more. It informs us of the 
manner in which the moon gave forth her rays. The next 
instance is the use of the word vivacity for brightness. The 
reason of our preference of the former, is the same as in the 
preceding case, though not so obvious; the word vivacity 
conveys to us more than the word brightness. There is a 
cheerfulness and animation in a wintry scene, lighted up 
by the rays of moonlight, which is well expressed by the 
word vivacity, but not brought to view in speaking of its 
brightness. In the same way, silvered instead of lighted, 
informs us of the manner in which the rays were reflected 
from the river. Peaks and precipices meari the same as 
the tops and steep sides of the mountains, but they are pre- 
ferred as terms appropriated to these objects. Specks also 
has the same meaning, since the connexion determines that 
specks of clouds are referred to, as the phrase little collec- 
tions of vapors, but it is preferred, not only as shorter, but 
as exhibiting more distinctly the appearance of the clouds. 
It will be still further noticed, that in the second form of 
the passage, the epithets fleecy, applied to the whiteness of 
the mist, — filmy, applied to transparency, — and silvery, ap- 
plied to gauze, are omitted. The effect of this omission, in 
each case, is to take away something, which, when expressed, 
adds much to the distinctness of the view. 

From the preceding examination of the different forms of 
the passage used for illustration, the following inferences 
may be made. 

1. That specific terms and phrases are to be preferred to 
those more general in their signification. By a specific 
word or phrase, is meant a word or phrase used in compara- 
tively a definite and limited sense. This distinction be* 



ON STYLtt 167 



tween specific and generic terms, is fully explained in books 
on Logic. It is also there stated, that a specific term con- 
veys a more full and distinct meaning to the mind than thai 
conveyed by a generic term ; and hence the use of such 
terms conduces to vivacity of expression. Of the instances 
mentioned, shone is the generic term, and twinkled the spe- 
cific. Vivacity, as expressing the appearance of a scene, is 
a specific term in relation to brightness. Silvered is specific 
in relation to lighted. 

2. That when words have been appropriated to particular 
objects, as their signs, it is better to use such words, than 
to convey the same meaning in more general terms. It gives 
a more definite view to the mind to speak of peaks and pre- 
cipices, than of the tops and steep sides of mountains, and of 
specks than oflittle collections of mist. 

3. That the use of well-chosen epithets contributes much 
to vivacity of style. So much depends on the successful 
use of this class of words, that I shall bring forward several 
examples, illustrating the different ways, in which they pro- 
duce the effect here ascribed to them. 

Epithets increase the distinctness of the view : 
1. By directing the attention to some striking and char- 
acteristic quality of the object, with which they are con 
nected. 

Example : " The wheeling plover ceased 
Her plaint." 

In this example, the epithet loheeling directs our atten 
lion to that kind of motion, which is characteristic of the 
species of bird mentioned. By thus bringing before our 
w.inds the characteristic property of an object, the distinct- 
ness of our conception of that object is aided. 



L68 ON STYLE. 



2. By directing the attention to those qualities of objects 
which are most obvious in the view taken of them 

Example : " Happiness is found in the arm-chair of dozing age, as 
well as either in the sprightliness of the dance, or the animation 
of the chase." 

In this example, the epithet dozing brings before the mind 
that characteristic of age, which the writer designed should 
be prominent, when speaking of the happiness found at this 
period of life. In this way, it increases the distinctness of 
the reader's view, and leads him more fully to feel the force 
of what is asserted. 

3. By leading the mind to trace out illustrative com- 
parisons. 

Example : " I have felt the bitter satire of his pen." 

The epithet bitter is literally applied to that which is an 
object of the sense of taste. By its application to an object 
of a different kind, the mind is led to trace out an illustra- 
tive comparison. Consequently in this way the distinctness 
of the reader's conception of the object, to which the epithet 
is applied, is increased. 

4. By affording a more full description of an object. 

Example : " The rays of the setting sun were just gilding the gray 
spire of the church." 

The epithet gray, in this example, might have been omit- 
ted, or a different word, as dark-blue, might have been sub- 
stituted for it, and the proposition would have been true. 
Still the effect of its use is favorable, since the mind has 
more definiteness in its view of the object, on which it fixes 
its attention. Every spire must have some color, and men 
tion of this colot, whatever it may be, aids the mind in the 



ON STYLE. J 69 



distinct conception of the object to which it belongs. It is 
in this way then, that an epithet, by a more full description, 
aids the distinctness of the view. 

To these illustrations of the nature and power of epithets, 
I would subjoin the remark, that compound epithets are 
sometimes introduced with favorable effects. The follow- 
ing are instances of this kind ; " — silver-tongued hope,' 
— - " much-abused man." The caution, that they be not too 
frequently introduced, may not be amiss. 

Under the head of a happy choice of words as conducive 
to vivacity, I mention, 

1. The use of language in a figurative manner. While 
giving examples in illustration of this position, I shall di- 
rect the attention to what are called tropes or figures of 
"language. 

" An ambition to have a place in the registers of fame, is the Eurya 
theus, which imposes heroic labors on mankind." 

In this example, Eurystheus, the name of an individual, 
is put for a class of men. The same idea would have been 
expressed, had the word taskmaster been used. But by in- 
troducing the word Eurystheus, besides the pleasure derived 
torn the classical allusion, a more distinct idea of what is 
mposed by ambition on its slaves, is given to the mind. This 
8 an instance, where an individual is put for the species, and 
s a form of the synecdoche. 

il When we go out into the fields in the evening of the year, a dif- 
ferent voice approaches us." 

The word evening, which is properly applied only to the 
ciose of the day, is here used in a more extended significa- 
tion Instead of being a specific, it becomes a general 
term In the same manner, we speak of the evening of life. 
15 



170 



ON STYLE. 



In this example, besides the increased distinctness of view 
there are pleasing images and associations connected witfc 
the close of the day, which are brought before the mind 
This example may be classed under either the metaphor or 
synecdoche. 

In the two examples now given, we have instances, where 
greater distinctness is given to the view, by using a word in 
a more general sense than that usually applied to it. 

" O ! 'Tis a thought sublime, that man can force 
A path upon the waste." 

In this passage, the word waste is used for ocean, a quality 
for a subject to which it belongs. This is called synecdoche. 
From the connexion are seen at once the design and effect 
of the change. What is it that makes it difficult for man to 
force a path upon the ocean 1 Is it not because it is a vast 
desert — a wide spread waste, where all is trackless? How 
much then does it add to the vividness of our conception 01 
what the author here says, that he fixes our attention on that 
quality, which he designs should be immediately in view, and 
on which his assertion is founded ! 

" We wish that labor may look up here, and be p oud in the midst 
of its toil." 

In this example, the abstract is used for the concrete — 
labor for the laborer. This is called synecdoche, and its 
tendency is to increase the distinctness of our view. In 
reading the word laborer, there are many circumstances 
which rise to the view of the mind. We think of the man, 
his station in life, and the relations he sustains ; but in the 
use of the abstract term, our attention is directed to the 
humble and wearisome occupation. 

" All hands engaged, the royal work grows warm 



ON STYLE. 171 



The word hands in this example is used to signify men. 
.t may be considered either as a synecdoche, when a part 
is put for the whole, or metonymy, when the instrument is 
put for the agent. In either case, it directs the attention 
to what the writer designed should be a prominent circum- 
stance. 

Many other examples might be given, in which the atten- 
tion is in different ways directed to the most prominent cir- 
cumstance. One caution is necessary in all attempts of 
this kind — that the whole form of the expression be suited 
to the design of the writer. If it had been said, that the 
waste dashes and foams, that we wish labor may regain its 
health, and that all hands walked out, the expression would 
at once strike us as faulty. 

" The last fond look of the glazing eye, turning to us even from 
.he threshold of existence." 

In this example, the word threshold, which is usually ap- 
plied to the extreme part of the passage to a building, is ap- 
plied to the close of life. As the ground of this different ap- 
plication of the term is resemblance, the figure will at once 
be recognized as the metaphor. It is an instance, where 
that which is an object of thought is represented to the 
mind by that which is an object of sense. This, as was re- 
marked when treating of the metaphor, aids the distinctness 
of the view, and what was there said needs not be repeated. 

" It is curious to get at the history of a monarch's heart, and to 
find the simple affections of human nature throbbing under the er- 
mine." 

The word ermine is here used for majesty, or royal estate. 
The ermine is the dress of royalty — it is the symool which 
'indicates its p esence. Here then the sign is pi>* for the 



172 



ON STYLE. 



thing signified. This is an instance of the metonymy. We 
notice also, that it is of the same nature as the preceding 
example — that which is an object of thought is represent- 
ed by that which is an object of sense. The same favorable 
effect on the distinctness of our conception, is also exerted, 

2. Vivacity is often attained by a departure from the 
common arrangement of the words in a sentence. 

Every language has some manner of arranging the words 
of a sentence, which, from the frequency of its occurrence, 
may be called its common mode of arrangement. Especially 
is this true of the English language, in which the grammati- 
cal construction is often made to depend on the juxtaposi- 
tion of words. That vivacity of expression is caused by de- 
parting from this common arrangement, is learnt from the 
following examples. 

Peter, observing the grammatical order, would have said 
to the lame man who asked alms, "I have no silver noi 
gold to give thee." But how much more vivacity is there in 
the expression, " Silver and gold have I none." In the 
same manner, our Saviour, following the common order, 
would have said, " The pure in heart are blessed." But 
by departing from this order, he has conveyed the same 
thought with increased force and vivacity — "Blessed are 
the pure in heart." 

In these and other expressions of the same kind, it is not 
difficult to account for the effect of the change in the order 
of the words on the vivacity of the expression. What is 
most prominent in the mind, is thus made to occupy the 
first place in what calls forth the attention. The imploring 
look of the beggar had asked for silver and gold, and Peter 
in his answer discovers, that he fully knew the meaning of 
that look, and lets the attention first rest on that, which ia 
first in the mind's view. In the same manner, it is to the 
olessedness of the pure in heart, that the Saviour would di 



ON STYLE. 



173 



ect the attention, and this is effected by the arrangement of 
the words in his declaration. 

The alteration of the arrangement of the words for the 
attainment of vivacity of expression, is not confined to words 
of primary importance in a sentence. It is extended to ad- 
verbs and conjunctions, and the whole class of secondary 
words. On the same principle also, in the arrangement of 
the clauses and members of complex sentences, that clause 
or member, which is most prominent in the view of the 
mind, is made to hold a conspicuous place. 

3. Vivacity is promoted by the omission of unnecessary 
words and phrases. 

This is what is called precision, and is opposed both to 
Tautology, or the repetition of the same sense in different 
words, and to Pleonasm, or the use of superfluous words 
The nature of precision may be learnt from the following 
examples : 

" It Jfc clear and obvious, that religious worship and adoration 
sho-ilu ye regarded with pleasure and satisfaction by all men." 

"It is obvious that religious worship should be regarded with 
Measure by all men." 

" He sat on the verdant green, in the umbrageous shade of the 
woody forest." 

" He sat on the gre<?n in the shade of the forest." 

" He succeeded in gaining the universal love of all men." 

" He succeeded in gaining the love of all men." 

" They returned back again to the same city from whence they 
same forth." 

" They returned to the city whence they came. 

In the corrected form of these examples, those words are 
omitted, which are redundant, or add nothing to the mean- 
ing of the sentence. That the effect of those alterations on 
tne vivacity of the st yle is favorable, will be readiJy allowed. 
As a general rule it may be said, that the fewer the word! 
15* 



174 



ON STYLE. 



used, provided perspicuity be not violated, the greater wil 
be the vivacity of the sentence. 

It may occur, that there are instances, where the repeti- 
tion of words nearly synonymous in their meaning, adds 
force and strength to the expression. Of this many exam- 
ples are to be found in tragedies, and wherever exhibitions 
of strong feelings are made. Such is the following passage ■ 

" Oh Austria « 
Thou slave, thou wretch — thou coward, 
Thou little valiant, great in villany, 
Thou ever strong upon the strongest side." 

This and similar expressions are the language of passion. 
The mind is full — the feelings too strong to find utterance, 
and we may truly say, that out of the abundance of the heart 
the mouth speaketh. These passionate expressions are of 
course free from the law, by which, in more sober composi- 
tions, we should be governed. 

It is important here to remark, that in reviewing our 
writings for the purpose of striking out redundant words and 
phrases, we should remember that every expletive is not to be 
struck out. There are some, which, instead of impairing, 
increase the vivacity of an expression; and others, the 
meaning of which we can hardly define, that cannot be 
omitted without giving an air of stiffness and awkwardness 
to the sentence. Of the former, do, in the following decla- 
ration of Othello, is an example. 

" Perdition seize thee, but I do love thee " 

Of the same nature are the redundant forms of speect 
which are found in ancient writers ; — "I have seen with 
mine eyes." " I have heard with mine ears." 

As examples, where the removal of an expletive endan- 



ON STYLE. 175 



grers the smoothness of the style, the many sentences in 
which the expletive there is found, may be mentioned. 

4. Vivacity is sometimes attained by the omission of con- 
junctions and the consequent division of the disccurse into 
short sentences. 

A single example will show what is intended by this re 
mark. 

" As the storm increased with the night, the sea was lashed into 
tremendous confusion, and there was a fearful, sullen sound of rushing 
waves and broken surges, while deep called unto deep." 

" The storm increased with the night. The sea was lashed into 
tremendous confusion. There was a fearful, sullen sound of rushing 
waves and broken surges. Deep called unto deep." 

In the second form of this example, the conjunctions are 
omitted ; and instead of one long sentence, as in the first 
form, we have several short sentences. The effect on the 
vivacity of the passage will be perceived by every one. The 
reason of the increased vivacity is also obvious. What is 
thus expressed in short sentences, stands out more prominent 
and distinct to the view. There is also more of conciseness, 
since all unnecessary words are omitted, especially those 
which are injurious to vivacity. But it is not here meant, 
that short sentences are to be preferred to long ones. The. 
most important direction that can be given on this subject 
is, that there should be variety. Long sentences and short 
ones should be intermingled, since the continued repetition 
of either becomes tedious and wearisome. Besides, it is 
sometimes the case, that conjunctions cannot be omitted 
without danger to perspicuity, which, as a quality of a good 
style, ranks higher than vivacity. But when conjunctions 
vnay be better omitted than expressed, as in the example 
given, and when the division into short sentences is not con 



176 ON STYLE 



tinued too far, such a division of a discourse is to be rec 
ommended as conducive to vivacity. 

5. Vivacity is sometimes attained by the use oi certain 
forms of sentences, which might in distinction be called fig- 
ures of sentences. Of these I mention the Climax, Antithe* 
sis, Exclamation, Repetition and Interrogation. Some ex- 
amples with accompanying remarks will be given. 

The following instance of the Climax is from a writet 
against infidelity. 

k< Impose upon me whatever hardships you please ; give me nothing 
but the bread of sorrow to eat ; take from me the friend in whom I 
had placed my confidence ; lay me in the cold hut of poverty and on 
the thorny bed of disease ; set before me death in all its terrors ; do 
all this, only let me trust in my Saviour, and I will fear no evil — I 
will rise superior to affliction — I will rejoice in my tribulation." 

In this example, and other sentences of a similar con- 
struction, one clause is accumulated upon another, each sur- 
passing in importance and power the preceding, till it seems 
as if nothing com J resist their united force. As an illustra- 
tion, I would refer to a deep and full flowing river, opposed 
to whose current some obstacle has been placed. The re- 
sisted waters are heaped on each other, and each successive 
wave bring an addition to their power, till the collected 
mass can no longer be withstood — the obstacle is swent 
away, and the river resumes its course with the rapidity and 
momentum of a torrent. 

There can be no doubt, that this form of sentence ia 
highly conducive to vivacity. It should, however, be but 
rarely introduced, and never, except when it seems required 
by the occasion and subject. It is evidence of an excited 
mind, and should seem to result from this excitement. If 
the subject does not require it — if the form of sentence does 
not have its foundation in the thought itself, it will have the 



ON STYLE. 177 



air of something artificial, and instead of exerting an influ 
ence favorable to vivacity, it will have a different effect. 

Of the Antithesis, I give the following example. The 
subject is the steam engine. 

" It can engrave a seal, and crush masses of obdurate metal be* 
fore it; draw out, without breaking, a thread as fine as gossamer, 
and lift up a ship of war like a bauble in the air. It can embroider 
muslin and forge anchors — cut steel into ribands, and impel loaded 
vessels against the fury of the winds and waves." 

A second example, more finished in its composition, is 
from Beattie on poetry. 

" In the crowded city and howling wilderness ; in the cultivated 
province and solitary isle ; in the flowery lawn and cragged moun- 
tain ; in the murmur of the rivulet and in the uproar of the ocean ; 
in the radiance of summer and gloom of winter ; in the thunder of 
heaven and in the whisper of the breeze ; he still finds something 
to rouse or soothe his imagination ; to draw forth his affection and 
employ his understanding." 

This form of sentence is founded on the principle of op 
position or contrast. A figure in black is never more dis- 
tinctly seen, than when placed upon a white ground-work. 
Campbell has very happily illustrated the effect of Antithe- 
sis, by an allue'on to a picture, where the different objects 
of the group are not all on one side, with their faces turned 
the same way, but so placed that they are made to con- 
front each other, by their opposite position. He says, that 
in such instances, there is not only the original light 
which is suited to each object, but that also which is recip- 
rocally reflected from the opposed members. In the exam- 
ples of the Antithesis that have been given, it will be no- 
ticed, that there is a balancing of the clauses. Not only 
is there opposition in the thought, but in the form and 
length of the clauses in which this opposition is expressed. 



17?? ON STYLE. 

In connexion with this remark the caution against the ap* 
pearance of an artificial construction, which was given in 
reference to the climax, may be repeated. Let the form of 
the sentence always arise from the thought itself, and not 
be the result of an attempt after vivacity. Of the two ex- 
amples given, though the latter is more perfect and finished, 
the former is to be preferred as most natural and easy. 

The Interrogation and Repetition are the language of ail 
excited mind. Where the former is used, the writer seems 
so impressed with the truth of what he asserts, that he is 
not content to state it in the cold form of a proposition, but 
utters it in a manner, that challenges any one to regard it 
with doubt. 

The Repetition also gives evidence of a full conviction of 
the truth of what is asserted, and of a deep sense of its im- 
portance, and is well calculated to convey these impressions 
to the reader in a striking manner. Both these forms of 
sentences are more frequently found in discourses intended 
for delivery, than in those designed to be read only, and 
when well pronounced, are often powerful in their effects on 
the hearers. 

The Exclamation is to be regarded as the mere burst of 
feeling, and will rarely be found in the productions of good 
writers. Writers of inferior order sometimes attempt to give 
an air of animation and feeling to their stye by the use of 
it ; but such artificial means must fail of success, and by 
the man of good taste will be regarded with disgust. 

6. Vivacity is promoted by the use of those forms of 
construction, which represent past actions and events as? 
transpiring at the present lime, and absent individuals aa 
present, speaking and listening. This has been called 
Rhetorical dialogue, and is found most frequently in narra 
[ *e writing. 

The following example, the latter form of which is that oi 



ON STYLE. 170 



Rhetorical dialogue, both illustrates this remark, and fur- 
nishes evidence of its justness. 

" Two hereditary enemies, among the Highlands, met face to fac« 
on a narrow pass. They turned deadly pale at the fatal rencontre. 
Bendearg first addressed his enemy, and reminded him, that he was 
first at the top of the arch, and called on him to lie down that he 
might pass over. He was answered by an assurance from Cairn, that 
when the Grant prostrates himself before a Macpherson, it must be 
with a svt :-rd through his body. Bendearg then proposed to him to 
turn back, if he liked it.' 

They turned deadly pale at the fatal rencontre. " I was first 

at the top," said Bendearg, " and called out first ; lie down that I may 
pass over in peace." " When the Grant prostrates himself before 
Macpherson," answered the other, " it must be with a sword through 
his body." " Turn back, then," said Bendearg, " and repass as you 
came." " Go back yourself, if you like it," replied Grant. 

Though several circumstances have been thus mentioned 
as conducive to vivacity of style, it should be remembered, 
that the foundation of this quality of style is in the mind of 
the writer. What has now been said is designed only to 
point out some of the different ways in which the excited 
feelings manifest themselves. The best direction, then, 
which can be given for the attainment of vivacity of style, is 
to become interested in the discussion of the subject itself. 

Euphony, or smoothness of sound, is the next quality of 
a good style to be considered. This is attained by the use 
of such words as in themselves, and in their succession in 
the sentence, are grateful to the ear. 

There can be no doubt that this quality of style is ac- 
quired more by imitation than by the observance of rules. 
Jlence, any directions for its attainment are of little practi 
ca! importance. Still it may be useful for the writer to re- 
member, that fr° intermingling of long and short syllables, 
ihe frequent ww 9?JCJ?afopen vowel sounds, and the avoid* 



180 ON STYLE. 



ing of those successions of consonants which are difficul 
of utterance, are favorable to smoothness of style. H« 
should know also, that certain successions of syllables are 
well suited to that cadence, or falling of the voice, which 
marks the close of the sentence. And, as a general remark 
it may be said, that what it is easy to read, is smooth in its 
sound to the ear. But the best and most practical direction, 
which can be given, is, to attune the ear by the frequent 
reading aloud of those writings in which this quality of style 
is found. 

It should make no difference with respect to the attention 
paid to the smoothness of style, that our writings are de- 
signed to be silently read, and not pronounced aloud. So 
closely is the sound of words associated with their appear- 
ance to the eye, that, though no voice is uttered in reading 
them, they are mentally pronounced, and the ear passes its 
judgment on the smoothness of their sound. 

The attention of writers is rarely directed to this quality 
of style any further, than to the avoiding of faults. But it is 
sometimes found to that extent, that it becomes a positive 
excellence and a high recommendation. The following 
sentence of Sterne has been pronounced one of the most 
musical in our language : 

"The accusing spirit, which flew up to heaven's chancery with 
the oath, blushed as he gave it in, and the recording angel, as he 
wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word, and blotted it out for- 
ever." 

Young writers, in their attempts after harmony of style, 
sometimes fall into a measured manner of writing, which 
may here be noticed. It is characterized by the occurrence 
of successive sentences, and sometimes paragraphs, which 
may be scanned, the regular return of the accented syllaole 
oeing in accordance with the rules of versification. £spo» 



ON STYLE. 181 



tially is this the case in those passages, wliere the writer be- 
comes excited, and thoughts are conveyed, which are fitted 
to affect the feelings and call into exercise the imagination. 
This measured manner, since it violates one of the distinc- 
tive differences of prose and poetry, is a fault in prose wri- 
tings, as much so as the absence of it is a defect in poetry. 
And when, as is sometimes the case, it is united with ex- 
travagances of thought and bombastic forms of expression, 
it is to a high degree disgusting. In such instances there 
is a radical deficiency of literary taste. But sometimes pas- 
sages thus measured will be found in the writings of those, 
whose style is not otherwise to be censured ; and here it will 
generally be a sufficient remedy to direct the attention to 
the fault. 

The epithet natural is frequently applied to style. Our 
works on Rhetoric want a noun to express the quality here 
Implied. Simplicity is sometimes used ; but as this word is 
more frequently found in a different sense, I shall introduce 
the term naturalness. 

Naturalness, as a quality of style, implies that a writer, 
in the choice of his words — in the form of his sentences — 
in the ornaments he uses, and in his turns of thought and ex- 
pression, commends himself to every man of good sense and 
good taste, as having pursued the course best suited to his 
subject and occasion. In this way it is opposed to affecta 
tion of every kind. But the following illustrations will aid 
in more fully stating in what sense the word is used. 

When we look on some of the beautiful remains of an- 
cient statuary, we pronounce them natural in their appear- 
ance By this expression we mean nothing more than that 
eheir appearance is such, as, in our opinion, it should be — 
such as is in consonance with our experience and observa- 
un. There is no violent contortion of tne reatures m\ 
breed attitude with the design of producing effect, but the 
16 



182 ON STYLE. 



image stands and appears as a man should do, in the circum- 
stances and situation in which it is placed. In the same 
manner, we say of a graceful dancer, who from long prac- 
tice has learned to move gracefully and apparently without 
effort or rule, that he moves naturally, and we mean the 
same as in the former instance. Now, should we say of the 
image, that there is much naturalness in its appearance, 
and of the dancer, that there is much naturalness in his 
movements, we should use the word in the same sense in 
which it is here applied to style. The writer who has nat- 
uralness of style, expresses himself in that easy, unlabored 
manner, which commends itself to our favor. He selects 
and uses his words, and forms and connects his sentences, 
yust as we should suppose any man might do, who should 
write on the same subject — just as we think perhaps we 
could and should do, unless we attempt to imitate him. We 
seem to hear him thinking aloud, and his thoughts flow forth 
to us in the same order, and with the same clearness, with 
which they sprung up in his own mind. He appears never 
to stop for a moment, to consider in what way he shall ex- 
press himself, but thinks only of what he shall say. Let but 
one far-fetched expression, one forced comparison, or one 
extravagant thought be found, and the charm is gone. 

The inquiry may here be made, whether by naturalness 
of style may not be meant that mode of writing, which is 
suited to the intellectual habits and attainments of an authoi 
— a style in which a writer shews himself, whatever his in- 
tellectual character may be. To this it may be answered, 
that, if this were the correct use of the term, naturalness, 
instead of denoting the highest excellences of style, would 
often express its greatest deformities and faults. 

The word is here used as referring to a common standard, 
which is found in the mind of every man whose taste is not 
perverted and vitiated. This may be clearly shewn by re. 



ON STYLE. 183 

ferring to the illustration before introduced. Every one 
while looking on the performance of a graceful dancer 
would say that his movements are easy and natural. Bu 
should one unacquainted with the rules and practice of the 
art attempt to dance, his movements might be natural to 
him, but no one would think of applying to them the word 
natural, in the same sense as in the former instance. In 
the same w^, u manner of writing may be natural to a wai- 
ter, when we should not think of ascribing to him the merit 
of naturalness of style. 

This illustration may be still further continued, with the 
view of shewing in what way this quality may be obtained. 

Were it asked in what way the awkward dancer may at- 
tain the easy and graceful movements of the other, it would 
be answered, by pursuing a similar course of instruction 
and practice. Some, either from the form of their bodies or 
their previous habits, would acquire these easy and natural 
movements more readily than others, and a few perhaps 
might need but little practice and little aid from the rules of 
the art. But these would be regarded as exceptions to what 
is more generally the case. In the same manner, to acquire 
naturalness of style, there is need of instruction and practice. 
A few, either from the original constitution of their minds, 
or their previous habits of thought and conversation, fall in- 
to it easily. Others, in their first attempts, are far from it, 
and it is with them the fruit of long practice in writing and 
a careful observance of rules. It may appear paradoxical, 
that what is called natural should be the result of art and 
labor But this difficulty is removed, if we remember, that 
»hc object of this art and labor is to bring us back to nature 

Naturalness of style is not confined to any speues of wri- 
ting. It is found alike in the most artless narrations, and 
in the most elevated descriptions — in the story that is open 
lo the understanding of a child, and in the sublime raptures 



184 ON STYLE. 



of Milton. The best examples of it are among ancient wn 
ters. This is the spell which binds us to the. page of Ho* 
mer, of Sophocles and Theocritus, of Xenophon and He- 
rodotus. And a reason may easily be assigned, why natural- 
ness of style should be found in these ancient writers 
They lived, as it were, near to nature. With them all is 
originality. Their thoughts and expressions are their own. 
With most modern writers it is otherwise. It is often re- 
marked, that in modern times there are few original ideas, 
We tell in different words what has often been told before, 
and, that we may avoid a coincidence of expression, we 
leave the natural, and seek after the more labored forms of 
speech. Hence it is, that less of naturalness of style is 
found in modern writings. 

The following are instances in which naturalness of style 
is most frequently violated ; 

1. When there is an evident attempt after ornament 
What are called the ornaments of style should ever appear 
to be naturally suggested, and to be most intimately con- 
nected with the subject and occasion. They should offer 
themselves for our use, and not be sought after. 

2. When the writer seeks after elegances of expression, 
or, as they are sometimes called, felicities of diction. Some, 
with the design of being thought elegant writers, studiously 
avoid old, genuine English words and idioms, introducing, 
so far as practicable, those which have been derived from 
other languages. Others have what may be called a sen- 
timental manner of expressing themselves. 

3. Some violations of naturalness of style arise from at* 
tempts to be forcible. Under this head are included extrav- 
agances of expression, sweeping assertions and forced illus- 
trations. 

4. Writers still further affect a fulness and flow o r expres- 
sion. Because some men of powerful minds and strong 



ON STYLE. 185 



feelings, have expressed themselves in long, flowing, full 
sentences, many, the current of whose thoughts is neither 
strong nor deep, would have them flow forth in an equally 
full and irresistible stream. 



Section 2 On the modes of writing, which characterize 
Che productions of different individuals. 

It is the design of this section to treat of the different 
modes of writing, which characterize the productions of dif- 
ferent authors. These, it has been stated, arise from diver- 
sities in their Intellectual habits, in their tastes, and in their 
skill in the use of language. They are denoted by different 
epithets, which are applied to style ; and while the mean- 
ing of these epithets is explained, the attention should be 
directed by the instructor to such examples as furnish illus- 
trations. 

It is sometimes said of a style, that it is idiomatic and 
easy. These epithets are generally found in connexion, 
and where the former is justly applied, the latter denotes a 
natural consequence. A style which is idiomatic, will ap- 
pear to have been easily written, and will be easily under- 
stood ; and this is all that is meant by ease as a quality of 
style. By an idiomatic style is meant a manner of writing 
in which, in addition to purity in the use of words, the 
phrases, forms of sentences, and arrangement of the words 
and clauses, are such as belong to the English language. 
Every language, as has been already stated, has peculiarities 
of this kind by which it is characterized, and the style in 
amich they abound, is said to be idiomatic. 

Dr. Paley's style may be mentioned as idiomatic. The 
following sentence is from his writings ; " A Bee amidst 
16* 



\S6 



ON STYLE. 



the flowers of spring is one of the most cheerful objects tha 
can be looked upon." This expression is just what w« 
should have used in conversation for conveying the same 
thought. A writer whose style is less idiomatic, would 
have said, " Of the different objects, which, amongst the 
flowers of spring, arrest the attention, the bee is the most 
cheerful that can be looked upon." This mode of stating 
the thought is more formal and stately, but less easy aud 
idiomatic. In another place, when speaking of the fry of 
fish that frequent the margins of our rivers and lakes, he says, 
"They are so happy, that they do not know what to do with 
themselves." Every English reader fully knows, and, I may 
say, feels, what is here expressed. It is a form of every 
day's occurrence, and its introduction shows the style of 
the author to be idiomatic. 

It is not meant, that expressions like the last, would be 
proper on all occasions and subjects. We vary the forms 
of expression in conversation. In conversing on grave sub- 
jects, we should not use the lively and familiar forms of ex- 
pression, which are suited to an hour of gayety ; and we 
should be equally far from imitating the stately and involved 
modes of expression, which characterize a foreign language 
There are idiomatic expressions in English which are suited 
to the grave style, as well as those which are suited to the 
lively. In the writings of Dr. Paley, those of either kind 
are to be found, when required by his subject. 

There is danger, lest a writer, in seeking to be idiomatic, 
become careless in his style. We often use expressions in 
conversation, which are incorrect in construction, and ob- 
scure in their meaning. But they are understood from the 
accompanying look, or some attending circumstance, and 
the incorrectness is forgiven, because of the hurry of the 
moment. But when the same expressions are found in a 
written discourse, they are justly censured An idiomatic 



ON STYLE. 187 



style is most strictly correct in construction and perspicuous 
in its meaning 

It has been said, that an idiomatic style is the style of 
conversation. Still it must be confessed, that there is hardly 
any one, that has not more formality in his writings, than 
in his familiar, oral intercourse. The distinction may be 
illustrated by referring to reading aloud. A good reader 
will, on the one hand, be far removed from artificial, or, as 
they are called, "reading tones;" on the other, though his 
tones are natural, they will differ in some respects from the 
familiar tones of conversation. In the same manner, a style 
may be idiomatic, and rise in some degree above the most 
common forms of conversational intercourse. 

An idiomatic style is always grateful to the reader. It 
requires no labor to understand a writer of this class. His 
forms of expression are those with which we are familiar — 
those which we use in the most artless, free communication 
of our thoughts, and we collect his meaning from a glance 
at the sentence. 

An abuse of the idiomatic style, to which no particular 
epithet has as yet been applied, is sometimes found at the 
present day. It is in fact rather the want of style, than a 
well-characterized manner of wriring. Like the conversa- 
tion of a man who is hasty in his conclusions, and all whose 
thoughts and views are ill defined, this style is loose and 
rambling, utterly disregarding all smoothness and polish 
and often violating the most common principles both of 
Rhetoric and Grammar. There is a mixing together of low- 
cant words and phrases, with foreign, abstruse and strangely 
compounded terms, and sometimes with lofty and imposing 
forms of expression. The figurative language especially, 
and all that is introduced with the design of illustration 
and ornament, wants consistency and uniformity. Odd 
conceits, vulgar illustrations, and undignified figurative ex- 



188 



ON STYLE 



pressions, are found in the same sentence with figures an-. 
anguage, striking and pertinent, and sometimes chaste anci 
beautiful. The same inequalities mark different passages 
and parts of the composition. One paragraph is trite and 
common-place both in thought and expression. The next 
is original, bold, startling and impassioned. 

An analysis of this mode of writing shews us that it is an 
unsuccessful attempt to be idiomatic and striking. It is in 
fact a species of literary coxcombry, and those who affect it 
would pass themselves off as men of superior powers and 
attainments. Their leading motto is, " Never think twice," 
and the first thoughts and expressions which they give us, 
are such as might be expected. It is not necessary to state 
the remedies, which should be a] plied to the faulty styJe 
that has been described. 

Opposed to the easy and idiomatic manner of writing, 
which has now been described, is the labored style. This, 
as the epithet imports, appears to have. been written with 
much pains on the part of the writer, and requires close at- 
tention and effort that it may be understood. The arrange- 
ment of the words and clauses is often inverted, and the 
whole composition of .he sentence is artificial. A labored 
style, when carried to excess, will be highly faulty. It will 
want perspicuity, smoothness, and naturalness. But it is 
often the case that a style, which is in some degree labored, 
has redeeming qualities, which recommend it, and give 
some degree of reputation to a writer. The style of Dugald 
Stewart may be mentioned as an instance of this kind. His 
manner of writing is evidently labored ; but there are quali- 
ties to be found in it which save it from censure. 

For the correction of a labored style, and the attainment 
of a more idiomatic and easy manner of writing, it is recom- 
mended; 1. To compose with greater rapidity. Ordinarily 
that form of expression, which presents itself to he mina 



ON STYLE. 189 



with the thought to be communicated, will best convey this 
thought to others ; especially is this the case, when a writer's 
views of his subject are clear and well defined. But the 
labored writer is not willing to use this obvious and easy 
form of expression. He must stop to select less common 
words, less simple and" obvious phrases, to invert his clauses 
and new model his sentences. But a habit of writing with 
greater rapidity, will tend to correct this propensity and the 
consequent faults of style. 

2. There are some kinds of composition, the frequent 
practice of which will aid in the attainment of ease of style 
Epistolary writing may particularly be mentioned. He who 
often communicates his thoughts to his friends in the easy, 
artless style of letter writing, will insensibly be led to use 
the same forms of expression on other occasions. The wri- 

ing of a journal, or the noting down of our casual thoughts 
md feelings, or the sketching of short descriptions of scenes 
and occurrences presenting themselves to our notice, when 
done simply for our own amusement and benefit, without 
any intention of submitting what we write to the inspection 
of others, will be of service in the same way. 

3. Aid will be obtained in the correction of a labored 
style from a familiarity with those writers, who are distin- 
guished for their easy and idiomatic manner of writing. 
Goldsmith, Addison, Steele, Swift, and many of their con- 
temporaries, are of this class. 

The epithets concise and diffuse are often applied to 
style. It may be said generally, that these qualifying terms 
refer to the number of words used by a writer for conveying 
his thoughts ; but these different kinds of style merit a more 
particular description. 

A writer whose style is concise, expresses his thoughts in 
few words. There is a vividness and distinctness in his views, 
wid he endeavors by a single and sudden effort to exhibit 



190 



ON STYLE. 



these views to others. His words are v/ell chosen, and his 
turns of expression short and bold. No unnecessary exple- 
tive, no redundant phrase is found. Grammatical ellipses 
are common, and his sentences are usually short. The 
thought is presented in but one light, and much is left to be 
inferred. As to ornament, there is no room for it. Some- 
times a short, plain comparison, or a bold metaphor is found. 
These, however, are always highly illustrative, and seem 
designed to save the necessity of a fuller statement. 

A diffuse style is the opposite of the concise. The thought 
is expressed in comparatively many words. It is not meant 
by this, that a diffuse writer employs more words than are 
of use in conveying his thoughts. A writer may be diffuse, 
and be free from the charge of Tautology and Pleonasm. 
But he does not, as in the former case, leave any thing to be 
supplied. The statement is not only clear, but full. He 
dwells on the thought presented, exhibits it in different lights, 
and enforces it by repetition in different language, with many 
and varied illustrations. His words are poured forth in a 
full and uninterrupted stream, and his sentences, though 
long, are usually harmonious and flowing. 

These different kinds of style are respectively suited to 
different subjects and occasions. The concise style is often 
used in short biographical notices, or what is sometimes 
called character painting — in the detail of facts, and in 
-overbs and sententious remarks. The diffuse, on the 
contrary, is used in the statement and discussion of novel 
opinions, especially on subjects that are uncommon. It is 
also well suited to discourses, which are designed to be 
delivered, and not to be read. Still it is often difficult to 
determine the degree of conciseness or diffuseness which is 
desirable. On the one hand, an excess of conciseness 
endangers the perspicuity of the style ; on the other, an ex- 
cess of diffuseness renders it heavy and tiresome. Whately 



ON STYLE. 191 

recommends to combine the two — to state the thought first 
in a diffuse manner, expanding the sense so that it may be 
distinctly understood, and then to convey the same idea in 
a more compressed and sententious form. This expedient 
produces the effect of brevity, and at the same time, what is 
said is fully comprehended, or, as he has well expressed it, 
" the reader will understand the longer expression and re- 
member the shorter." Passages in the writings of Burke 
and Johnson illustrate this remark. 

The epithets barren and luxuriant are applied to style 
to denote defective modes of writing nearly allied to con- 
ciseness and diffuseness. The former epithet implies a 
nakedness and want of connexion in the thoughts and ex- 
pressions. The trains of thought which are started, are but 
partially followed out, and the production has in this respect 
a half finished appearance. The expressions, too, want ful- 
ness and flow. Repetitions of the same words and phrases 
are frequent, and all that pertains to the use of words and 
the forms of expression, is common place. 

What is thus described as barrenness of style, may owe 
its origin, either to a want of fertility of invention or to a 
deficiency of ideas or of words. Where there is a deficiency 
of ideas, when the subject is within the compass of the wri- 
ter's powers, further research and reflection are needed. 
When barrenness of style arises from want of copiousness of 
expression, or command of language, it is a defect, which 
much reading of good English authors and persevering 
efforts after improvement will overcome. This defect is 
most frequently found in those whose acquaintance with 
vterature has commenced late in life, and such especially 
need make persevering efforts to supply the deficiencies of 
their early education. In other instances, barrenness of 
rttyle arises from a want of fertility of invention. The wri- 
ter is unable to trace the relations between his thoughts, to 



192 ON STYLE. 



make inferences and draw conclusions, to explain and ex- 
hibit. Barrenness of style, when arising from this source, 
will be remedied by increased maturity of the mind and im- 
proved discipline of its powers, It may be of service also 
to direct the attention to the modes of amplification used by 
those, who in this respect excel. 

A luxuriant style, which is the opposite of that just de- 
scribed, is characterized by a redundancy of words and 
phrases, especially by a profusion of imagery and exuberance 
of figurative language. The writer, instead of selecting 
that which is choice and best fitted to the subject and occa- 
sion, seems to give us all his thoughts, and the different con- 
ceits, both as to form of expression and ornament, which 
have offered themselves to his mind. Sometimes, also, there 
is an attempt to write in a commanding and imposing man- 
ner, which manifests itself in many and extravagant epithets 
and figures, and an affected fulness and flow of expression 

Luxuriance of style, in young writers, is ascribed to the 
glow and excitement of mind natural to the early period of 
life. It is looked upon as the overflowings of youthful feel- 
ings, and often pronounced to be ominous of good ; for it is 
anticipated, that when more maturity of mind shall have 
been obtained, and the ardor of youthful feeling cooled, 
what is exuberant and extravagant will give place to rich- 
ness and force of expression. 

Another cause, to which this mode of writing is some- 
times ascribed, is the temperament of the individual writer 
He belongs to a class of men who are wont to be easily and 
strongly excited. Hence, whatever may be the subject or 
occasion on which he writes, he becomes at once impassioned 
in his style. 

In other instances, and those in which perhaps a remedy 
may most easily be applied, luxuriance of style may be traced 
to some erroneous impressions as to wherein a good style 



ON STYLE 193 



consists. An undue importance is ascribed to figures and 
ornaments, and the writer prides himself on his command of 
language and the rapid and ready flow of his expressions. 
Haying been struck with the fervency and imposing charac- 
ter of some admired passages in his favorite authors, he 
endeavors on a.l occasions and subjects to manifest an equal 
warmth and power of expression. Thus the rules and prin- 
ciples of good taste are violated, and the writer becomes 
extravagant and verbose. 

To correct the faults of a luxuriant style, a strict and 
careful revision is enjoined. Not only should all unneces- 
sary words and phrases be struck out, but in some instances 
it may be required to recast the whole sentence. Particular 
attention should also be given to whatever is of a figurative 
nature in the composition. Nothing of this kind should be 
introduced, which is not strictly chaste and fitted to the 
subject and occasion. It may further be recommended to 
the luxuriant writer, occasionally to select some familiar and 
common topic as the subject of his composition. In this 
way the impropriety of any uncommon elevation and luxuri- 
ance of style, will become obvious to the writer himself. 

Forcible and vehement. We apply the epithet forci- 
ble to a style of writing, which, in a plain, distinct and irre- 
sistible manner, urges upon us the opinions and views of 
the writer. It is an evidence of excitement. The writer 
is interested in his subject, and is desirous that others may 
have the same feelings with himself. But it more especially 
implies a full persuasion of the truth and importance of what 
is said, and such an exhibition of the reasons of this persua- 
sion, as cannot fail to produce conviction on the part of the 
aeader. Hence it is dependent in a great degree on the 
intellectual habits, and implies a wel disciplined mind — 
a mind accustomed to comprehensive, methodical and strong 
views of subjects. It requires also skill in the use of lan- 
17 



194 ON STYLE. 



guage, but derives little aid from what are called the orna 
ments of style. 

When to sound and convincing arguments, clearly and 
forcibly exhibited, is added a highly excited state of feeling 
vehemence of style is the result. It is from this deeper 
current of feeling, implied by the latter term, that the shade 
of difference between a forcible and vehement style arises. 
This excitement of feeling may spring from the greater 
importance of the subject, or from the more intense interest 
felt in it by the writer. An able political writer, in a pro- 
duction on an electioneering question, might be forcible in 
nis style. But let this same writer be called to treat on some 
subject deeply affecting the welfare of his country, and he 
becomes vehement. 

The forcible and vehement styles are well suited to the 
discussion of political subjects ; and in the past history of 
our country, especially about the time of our revolution, 
many examples are to be found. Among others, the wri- 
tings of Patrick Henry, of James Otis, and of President 
Adams, may be mentioned. Controversial writings on other 
subjects are also often forcible, and our age has furnished 
some good examples of the vehement style among divines 
Chalmers may be mentioned as a writer of this class. 

Opposed to the forcible and the vehement style, is that 
manner of writing which is called feeble, and languid. A 
distinction may be made between these epithets, similar to 
that made between forcible and vehement. The former has 
reference to strength of reasoning, and energy of thought : 
the latter to the degree of excitement which is manifested. 
Hence it is, that a feeble and languid manner of writing is 
indicative of the whole character of the writer. The man 
whose style is feeble and languid is usually slothful in his 
habits, and inefficient in his plans and conduct. His view 
^f his subject is cold and indistinct. His worr's are general: 



ON STYLE. 



195 



a^J destitute of thai vivacity which results from the use of 
more specific terms. His sentences are often long, and the 
clauses and members loosely connected. The parenthesis 
is much used ; and not unfrequently we find at the close of 
a sentence an appendage, which is evidently designed to 
save the trouble of forming a new sentence. 

Attempts after force and vehemence of style, when un- 
supported by strength of thought and real feeling, become 
rant and declamation. In such instances, instead of strong 
reasoning, we have confident assertions ; and for clear, 
impressive views of the subject, we have frequent repetitions, 
and bold declarations of its clearness. Instead of being left 
ourselves to discern the depth of the writer's feelings, we 
are told how deeply he feels ; and all the artificial helps of 
vivacity, as exclamation, interrogation, antithesis and climax, 
are called to his aid. But while force and vehemence of 
style, like a deep and powerful current, sweep every obsta- 
cle bttfore them, rant and declamation are fitly represented 
by the broad and shallow stream, specious and noisy, but 
powerless. 

Elevated and dignified. The foundations of an ele- 
vated style are laid in the thoughts. And these have more 
of originality and sublimity about them, than those which 
flow through the minds of less gifted men. There is also a 
fervor by which the writer seems to be urged onwards — 
not an impetuous and violent feeling, but calm and powerful 

Ordinarily, in reading a production in an elevated style 
our attention is too much engrossed by the thoughts, to per- 
mit us to regard the language in which they are convey eu 
and if at any time we stop with this object in view, it is but 
o feel and express )ur admiration. The words used are 
those, which, from the associations connected with them, are 
well suited to the feelings and thoughts that have possession 
of our minds. But the selection of these words seems not th« 



£96 ON STYLE. 



result of effort an J care. They have sprung up in the mind 
simultaneously with the thoughts themselves, and we regard 
them as the language in which the author ordinarily thinks 
a id converses. 

The sentences are full and flowing, but at the same time 
unlabored, and simple in their composition. There is also 
a uniformity about them, which is characteristic of an ele- 
vated style. In more common styles you will find here and 
there a striking thought, or a bold expression, while other 
parts are thrown in as subsidiary or as connecting the more 
prominent thoughts. But in the elevated style, every sen- 
tence has its meaning and its importance. The whole 
abounds in thought, and there is a majesty and grandeur in 
the quiet but resistless power, with which it holds its undis- 
turbed and even way. 

We can hardly with propriety speak of the ornaments of 
an elevated style. This word implies something put on with 
the design of pleasing ; but in the kind of style I am describ- 
ing, figurative language, and all that is included undtv the 
head of ornament, seems rather to arise from a kind of in- 
spiration, than from any design of pleasing ; and the effect 
produced in the mind of the reader is a grateful exaltation 
of feeling. The definition which Longinus has given of 
sublimity, is in such instances happily exemplified. We 
seem to put ourselves in the place of the author, and as if 
the thought were our own, we glory in the grandeur and 
nobleness of the conception. 

In applying the epithet dignified to style, there is a refer- 
-\ce to true dignity, in distinction from the air of importance 
which sometimes assumes this name. Considered in this 
light, it is allied to the elevated style, but differs from it, in 
that here is less of ease and naturalness in its character. 
The attitudes and movements of dignified men, are often 
the results of design and study, and similar art and labor ara 



ON STYLE. 197 



found in the style of the dignified writer. lie seems con- 
scious, that he is treating of weighty matters, and laying 
down important conclusions, and there is something in his 
very air, which tells us it is a great work he is carrying on. 
Hence uncommon and learned words are chosen, and there 
is a stateliness and formality in his sentences. The phrase, 
which tne idiomatic writer would select as most happily 
expressive of his meaning, the dignified writer rejects aa 
beneath his style. Instead of distinctness and ease of ex- 
pression, there are inversions and involutions of clauses. 
Many circumstances are introduced, which give preciseness 
to the meaning, but which break up the continuous flow of 
the sentence. A tiresome uniformity in the length and form 
of the sentence, is also found, giving to the whole produc- 
tion the appearance of the enunciation of successive, distinct 
propositions. 

The dignified style admits of ornament, and that of a high 
kind. But there is something of parade attending its use. 
Instead of the sprightly metaphor, or well timed allusion, 
we have the protracted allegory, or the formal comparison. 
But then the images which are brought to view, are not 
only illustrative, but often ennobling and exalting. It is nof 
a common pageant that passes before the mind, but one of 
those splendid scenes that can give pleasure to the great. 

For examples of the elevated style, I may refer to tht 
writings of Robert Hall of England, and of Dr. Channing 
of Boston. Of the dignified style, the philosophical writings 
of Dugald Stewart may be mentioned. 

Unsuccessful attempts after the elevated or dignified 
manner of writing, result in what is called the pedantic 01 
pompous style. A pedant is one fond of showing book- 
Knowledge ; and a pedantic style is characterized by the 
use of such terms and phrases, as are obsolete, uncommon, 
or derived from the dead languages. The pompous style is 
17* 



198 ON STYLE. 



usually associated with the pedantic, and is characterized 
by the use of long and sonorous words, by circumlocutions, 
by the frequent use of synonymes, and by the repetition of 
the same thought in different words. Instead of any further 
description of these styles, it may be sufficient to refer 
to Weems's Life of Washington. There are plants which 
in the language of husbandmen, grow rank in certain 
soils. They spread wide their branches, and are covered 
with thick foliage. But it is only after a long and wea- 
ried search, that any fruit can be found, and then it is not 
of sufficient value to repay the toil. These plants are apv 
emblems of the productions of pompous writers. 

Neat and elegant. Th°«^. epithets are applied to stylt 
with particular reference to what is called the turn of ex- 
pression. They denote also, especially the latter, the naturt 
of the ornament used. We well understand their force, at 
they are applied to a production in the arts. By the appli 
cation of the former to any article of ornament or use, we 
declare that it is not only free from faults, but that it i? 
executed in a manner that pleases us, and shows skill on 
the part of the artist. In applying the other epithet, we ex- 
press admiration. The work is not only faithfully and skil- 
fully executed, but in a manner which excels. They have 
the same meaning when applied to style. In saying that a 
style is neat, we mean that the turns of expression are such, 
as happily convey the thoughts, and are well suited to the 
subject and occasion. In saying that a style is elegant, we 
decjare that there is the same happy and well adapted mode 
of conveying the thoughts, and to a degree that is uncom- 
mon. 

The turn of expression must necessarily depend both on 
the choice of words, and the composition of the sentence 
It is also closely connected with the thought that is con« 
reyed Thus in the forcible and vehement style, we hav€ 



ON STYLE. 199 



bold turns of expression ; — in the elevated and dignified, 
we have sublime and grand turns of expression. In the 
neat style, there is sprightliness and justness in the 
thoughts, and a vivacity and finish in the mode of con- 
veying them. At the same time, the writer is careful to 
avoid every fault. The neat style, as thus explained, is 
ever pleasing, and to some classes of writing peculiarly 
well suited. But it differs essentially from the easy and 
idiomatic style before described, in that it gives evidence 
of labor in its construction. It seems the result, to which 
mediocrity of talent has attained, by patient and praiseworthy 
exertions. 

Elegance, as has been stated, implies that which is choice 
and select. In this sense it may be applied to words, forms 
of sentences, and the various ornaments of style. Espe- 
cially does it require that all coarse and homely words and 
phrases should be avoided, even though their use might give 
more vivacity to the expression. The sentences also are 
harmonious and flowing, and while they are polished, and 
easily understood, they are alike removed from the stiffness 
and awkwardness of the labored style, and the looseness and 
familiarity of the idiomatic. But it is in the imagery that 
the characteristic trait of the elegant style is found. Beau- 
tiful and expressive epithets and turns of expression, with 
embellishing comparisons, and other formal ornaments of 
style, often occur, and excite emotions of taste. It is mani- 
fest that all is fitted and designed to please. Writings of 
this class are referred to under the next head of ornamented 
styles, where the import of* elegance, as applied to the orna- 
ments of style, is more fully exhibited. 

In considering an author's manner of writing as addressed 
to the imagination, or as designed to please, we say that his 
Btyle is plain, or that it is ornamented. As the words 
ODviously imply, the former of these epithets refers to a des« 



200 ON STYLE. 



titution of ornament, and the latter to its presence. Bu 
between an absolutely plain style and one highly ornamented, 
there are various degrees ; and different epithets have been 
applied to different kinds of writing, according to the nature 
and amount of ornament used. 

In attempting to explain the most common of these epi- 
thets, I shall direct the attention to different authors in 
whose writings the ornaments of style abound. 

W. Irving, whose literary productions have acquired a 
deserved celebrity, may be first mentioned. Most of his 
works are addressed to the imagination, with the design of 
pleasing rather than of instructing. This kind of writing 
admits of much ornament, and the reader of the Sketch 
Book and of Bracebridge Hall will find that his expecta- 
tions of pleasure from this source are not disappointed. But 
though in these writings there is a profusion of ornament, 
it is of that modest, chaste, unobtrusive kind, that never 
cloys. It does not dazzle the mind, nor fill it wiih admira- 
tion, but excites emotions more calm and permanent. It is 
either the unstudied metaphor, or the embellishing and illus- 
trative comparison, which are always welcome, as they cast 
new light and beauty on the objects of our view. Some- 
times also a metonymy, or a synecdoche, or a personification 
of the humbler kind, gives increased vivacity to the expres- 
sion; In reading the works of this author we seem not to 
be passing through a region, where gorgeous palaces, artifi- 
cial parks and lakes and shrubbery, are successively meeting 
our attention, till we are wearied by their uniform splendor ; 
but it is rather a land of rural elegance, and we look upon 
the neat villas — the highly cultivated fields with their haw- 
thorn hedges, while over the whole country is spread, in rich 
profusion, those simple but graceful ornaments, with which 
nature knows how to deck her own fields. I would then 
call the style of Irving, in reference to its ornament, simpk 



ON STYLE. 



201 



and elegant ; — simple, as free from all that is affected — 
elegant, as being choice in its selection of ornament. This 
is one of the most grateful forms of the ornamented style, 
and denotes both delicacy and refinement of taste. 

As an example of an ornamented style, in which elegance 
is found, but not in connexion with simplicity, that of Alison 
may be mentioned. In his writings, as in those of Irving, 
there is a profusion of ornament, and it must be said, that 
this is less acceptable in sermons and philosophical treatises 
than in fictitious writings. There is also manifestly some- 
thing of art in the ornaments of Alison's style. They have 
been put on, and are not a part of what they adorn. They 
are flowers that have been planted, and not those that have 
sprung up spontaneously. Still no one will deny that Alison 
excels in the figurative use of language, and that the orna- 
mental figures of style that he introduces, are often beautiful 
and striking ; and he justly bears the name of an elegant 
writer. 

The style of Phillips, the orator, affords an example of an 
ornamented style differing from those which have been 
mentioned. From the nature of his productions we should 
expect to find in them figures of the bolder kind; and many 
splendid passages are found. But too often it is the case, 
that it is all splendor — mere show without solidity. Many 
of his figures are figures of words, and nothing more. If 
we attempt to bring up before the mind the image he pre- 
sents, and to see whether it be distin^* and perfect, we too 
often find that we have something glittering before us, but 
it is without form or comeliness. His style may be called 
brilliant but specious. We are ready to apply to it the com- 
mon proverb, " It is not all gold that shines." 

Hervey, the author of Meditations, is often mentioned as 
a florid writer. This epithet denotes a superabundance of 
•rnament, and not of the choicest kind. His work is a 



202 ON STYLE. 



mass of metaphors and comparisons. There is evidence of 
an active imagination, but it wants the guidance of taste. 
There is also ingenuity, but it manifests itself in strange 
conceits and far-fetched illustrations. 

From these instances we learn what is meant by the epi- 
thets simple, elegant, specious, and Jlorid, as applied to 
style ; and these epithets denote the most, common qualities 
of those styles in which ornament abounds. 

Section 3. On modes of writing suited to different sub* 
jects and occasions. 

ft is the design in the preceding chapters to treat of the 
principles and rules of good writing. An exam nation of 
the different classes of literary productions, and of the style 
suited to then, may form a second part of this work. All 
that will now be attempted, is to give in a short section 
some practical directions, which may aid the writer in those 
kinds of composition which are most common. Such are 
Epistolary writings, Essays, Historical and Fictitious wri- 
tings, Argumentative Discussions, and Orations. 

Epistolary writings are communications between indi- 
viduals, which serve as a medium both of friendly intercourse 
and of transacting the business of life. They hold a middle 
rank between the unrestrained flow and carelessness of con- 
versation, and the preciseness and formality of dignified 
composition, approaching, however, nearer to the former 
than to the latter. 

Authors sometimes assume the form of letters in their 
publications when nothing more than the form is designed 
to be used. Such letters, though addressed to individuals, 
pre in fact written for the public, and dropping the addresses 
prefixed to them, differ in no respect from the essay or dis- 
eertation. These are not included in the class of writings 
I am now describing. 



CN STYLE. 203 

Letters of friendly intercourse should be written in an 
busy, artless style. Sprightliness of thought and vivacity of 
expression, are appropriate to this class of writings : but the 
more formal ornaments of style should be rarely introduced. 
At least, it may be said, that such ornaments must be man- 
aged with uncommon skill, not to injure the simplicity that 
is required. In the conversation of the man of taste and 
intelligence, we look for a correct use and happy choice of 
words, and for an easy, idiomatic and simple phraseology, 
avoiding alike the cant of the vulgar, the verbosity of the 
pedant, and the sickening refinement of the sentimentalist. 
The same propriety in words, the same artlessness in ex- 
pression, are required in his letters, with the additional 
care which must always be caused by the thought manent 
scripta. 

The letter of business should have strictness of method 
and perspicuity of style. Its object should be promptly 
stated, and nothing unnecessary be introduced. 

It is not sufficient to insist upon a simple and artless 
style, and to caution the writer against a stiff and labored 
manner of composition. There is danger of negligence and 
carelessness. Some, presuming on the good nature of their 
friends, write their letters in a hasty, disconnected manner 
as to the thoughts, while their words are often incorrectly 
used, and their expressions are slovenly. Such may be 
called rattlers. They run on from one subject to another — 
their words and sentences but half written out, and their let- 
ter, from its beginning to its close, is a perplexing enigma. 
To such a letter, the lines of Cowper may be applied ; 

' One had need 
Be very much his friend indeed, 
To pardon or to bear it." 

It may be added that the man who can write better, is 
,hus doing injustice to himself. An improper expression in 



204 ON STYLE. 

conversation may be forgotten, an awkward movement maj 
be overlooked, but a carelessly written letter is an abiding 
witness against its author. 

English literature furnishes many good models in this 
species of composition. Cowper may be mentioned as a 
writer who excels. His solid common sense, his judicious 
reflections, his lively wit, his playful poetical fancy, his 
warm affections, his melancholy but deeply interesting feel- 
ings of piety, all conspire to give a charm to his letters. Add 
to this a style, chaste, simple, and sometimes elegant, and 
it is no wonder, that his productions of this kind are ever 
read with interest. 

Essays are writings, which are usually addressed to the 
public periodically, and which are briei" in their extent and 
humble in their pretensions. The Essayist does not prom- 
ise a full view of his subject ; nor does he seek to exert a 
strong influence over the minds of his readers. His arrange- 
ment is professedly desultory ; his arguments are probabili- 
ties and inferences from facts that are stated. He makes no 
appeal to the passions, but tells his story and leaves his 
reader to his own feelings and reflections. The character- 
istics which recommend writings of this kind to public 
attention, are the following : 

1. The thoughts should have novelty and importance. 
It can hardly be expected, that readers will direct their 
attention to so humble a class of writings as the Essay> 
unless they are to be compensated, either by the pleasure of 
novelty or by an increase of valuable knowledge. Hence the 
difficulty of ably conducting periodical publications. To do 
this successfully, requires a mind well furnished with rich 
and varied stores of knowledge. Addison has said, that it 
is more difficult to write a series of periodical essays, than 
to compose a book on some definite subject ; and he spoke 
from experience He is said to have spen y « much time in 



ON STYLE. 205 



preparation, and to have collected three manuscript volumes 
of interesting facts and references, before he commenced 
the writing of the Spectator. The issuers of proposals for 
publishing periodical essays, who with limited resources are 
wont to make ample promises, should know this anecdote 
of Addison. 

2. The flow of thought in the essay should be discursive 
and animated. To writings of this kind, the maxim ars est 
celare artem, may be well applied. Every well disciplined 
mind will form its plan, but as it has been already remarked, 
it is not necessary in all cases, that this plan be formally 
stated. Much skill is also required in the frequent transi- 
tions from one subject to another. By dwelling too long on 
one part, the production becomes tedious; by passing too 
rapidly from one to another, it appears sterile and abrupt. 
Wit and sprightliness are also expected in the Essay. We 
look for the efforts of the active, playful mind, rather than 
for the deep-laid and well-matured reflections of the philoso- 
pher. Sprightliness and discursiveness are so essential to 
productions of this kind that those, who from their intellec- 
tual habits, or from the constitution of their minds, are des 
titute of these qualities, should abstain from all attempts in 
this species of writing. 

3. The style of the Essay may be easy and idiomatic, or 
more labored and neat. I have already explained what is 
denoted by these qualifying terms. 

The absence of those adventitious causes, which excite a 
strong interest and arouse the attention, is a reason, why 
writings of this class should in some degree be addressed to 
the imagination. There are few minds willing to seek aftei 
knowledge, unles3 some peculiar interest in the subject of 
inquiry, or some striking charms in its representation, allure 
them to the task. Hence, so far as is consistent with the 
calm and simple manner of the essay, the allusions shou/d 
18 



206 



ON STYLE. 



be frequent and happy, the illustrations pertinent, and tlw 
figurative expressions profuse and pleasing. 

In the literature of no country, do we find more perfeei 
and numerous specimens of Essay writing, than in that of 
England. Fi jm some favorable circumstances, this species 
of composition early became popular in that country. The 
minds of those who devoted their time and talents to it, were 
well suited to the employment, while the state of morals, 
manners and literature, afforded fit and copious subjects. 
Hence the Spectator was well received, had a wide circu- 
lation, and became a part of the literature of the country. 
Numerous, and some of them able periodical publications of 
this class, have since been issued and well received. 

History is the record of past events. It may treat sepa- 
rately of the government and political relations of a country, 
— of its literature, or of its religion ; and may hence receive 
the epithet of Civil, Literary, or Ecclesiastical History. As 
examples, we have Pitkin's Civil History of the United 
States, Dunlop's History of Roman Literature, and Mo- 
sheim's Ecclesiastical History. So intimate, however, is the 
connexion between civil government, literature and religion, 
and so great is their reciprocal influence on each other, that 
writers most frequently view them in connexion, and give 
us the General History of a country ; — such is Hume's 
History of England. 

A further division of historical writings, is founded on 
the different modes of stating events. One is a simple rela- 
tion of facts ; the other views facts in their connexion with 
each other, as cause and effect. The former is termed Nar- 
rative History; the latter Philosophical History. 

In examining the merit of a historical production, we 
direct our attention, 1. To the skill shown in the selection 
and arrangement of facts. 2. To the fidelity of the writer. 
II. To the style. Each of these topics will now be briefly 
noticed. 



ON STYLE. 207 



1. The skill shown in the selection and arrangement of 
facts, 

No employment perhaps requires such various and exten- 
sive knowledge, as the writing of history. The historian is 
to view the actions of men in connexion with their causes : 
and to do this, he must well know the secret springs of 
human action . He is to judge also of occurrences as affect- 
ing communities, and this requires an intimate knowledge 
of the different forms of government, and of the principles of 
ciril polity. He needs further to be familiar with literature 
in its different departments, and with religion in its various 
forms. But all these are but remote and indirect prepara- 
tives for the work. With the particular country and portion 
>f time, which are the subjects of his history, the writer 
mist have a thorough and intimate acquaintance. He must 
seek access to the fountain sources of knowledge, — must 
examine authentic documents and original authorities, and 
become familiar with the institutions, and manners, and 
opinions, of the age and people of whom he writes. 

When, as the result of patient, continued research, and 
careful investigation, the writer has collected the materials 
of his work, his attention is in the next place directed to the 
selection and arrangement of facts; and here he will be 
guided by the proposed object of his work. If it be his de- 
sign to write a narrative history simply, he will place before 
us such facts, as may fully inform us of whatever of impor- 
tance pertains to the people of whom he writes. He wL 
also have reference to what is fitted to excite interest in his 
readers, to gratify their curiosity and furnish them profitable 
instruction. But in philosophical history, the writer has 
some leading design in his work. He would show us the 
origin and progress of certain civil and religious institutions, 
or he would trace the effects of opposing opinions on a com- 
munity, and show us in what manner public measures have 



208 ON STYLE 



been influenced, and the welfare of the nation affected 05 
contending parties. Any definite object of ihis kind, must 
evidently become a ruling principle to the historian in the 
selection of his facts. 

The success of a historian, will also depend much on the 
clearness of his method and the strictness of his arrangement 
In narrative history, the order of time will be principally 
observed. In philosophical history, the arrangement, aa 
well as the selection of facts, will depend on the leading 
design of the writer. His statements, like the different parts 
of an argument, must all be brought to bear on some com- 
mon point. 

Some writers divide their histories into successive eras, 
and give a full and distinct view of the condition of a nation 
at these epochs. Such is the arrangement of Henry's His- 
tory of England. Divisions of this kind are favorable to 
perspicuity, but, by breaking up the natural connexion of 
events, they diminish the interest of readers. 

Many of the ancient historians are deficient in their plan. 
Herodotus, the father of Grecian history, though possessing 
great merit as a narrator, observes but little order in his 
narrations. He passes hastily from one nation to another, 
and often introduces in a parenthetical form, the events of 
many years. Thucydides also has in this parUc'ilar shown 
little skill, and often, that he may strictly observe chrono- 
logical order, interrupts in a painful manner the course of 
{11s narrative. After recording the events, which have occur- 
red during a period of time in one part of the world, he 
breaks off abruptly, and proceeds to the narration of what 
has taken place, during the same period, in another part. 
A more skilful writer would have found some connecting 
*ink. Livy and Tacitus have more merit in this respect, 
and, as narrative historians, are good models in the selectiot 
and arrangement of facts. 



ON STYLE. 209 



2. Fidelity as a trait of the historian. 

Cicero has said that two things are incumbent on the his- 
torian — to avoid stating what is false, and fully and fairly 
4o place before us the truth. These two things the historian 
professes to do, and fidelity implies that he is true to his 
professions. He promises us the results of careful, thorough, 
fair investigation ; and if he is faithful, he seeks access to 
every possible source of knowledge, and free from careless- 
ness and indolence, makes a fair use of the materials he 
may obtain. Fidelity further implies, that a writer does not 
designedly deceive us. It is indeed hardly to be supposed, 
that one wishing to obtain confidence as a writer of history, 
should designedly deceive. But it is not enough that a his 
torian may not have laid to his charge designed misrepresen- 
tations. He must be free from the influence of prejudice, 
and his statements must be fairly made. In philosophical 
history, there is often strong temptation to misrepresent, and 
so various and apparently unimportant are the ways in which 
this may be done, that there is much need of watchfulness 
The selection of some facts in preference to others — the 
dwelling on favorite views of subjects — the manner of rep- 
resenting facts, even the epithets used, may give a decided 
cast to a historical statement, and strongly manifest the bias 
of the writer's mind. We almost expect, that when a his- 
torian writes of his own country, or attempts to account for 
the origin and to exhibit the nature of those political or reli- 
gious opinions, which he himself is accustomed to maintain 
or oppose, he will be partial. From this source, no doubt, 
arise the greatest defects in Hume's History of England. 
Sometimes, also, the influence of cherished opinions will be 
felt, when writing the history of a nation extinct, and with 
which the historian himself has no connexion. Thus Gib' 
bon's infidelity has colored his representations of what per- 
tains to the Christian religion. In the same manre.r, Mitf 
18* 



210 ON STYLE. 



ford's monarchical principles are seen in the account, given 
in his History jf Greece, of the democracy of Athens. In 
fact, such are the subjects on which the philosophical histo« 
nan is called to pronounce an opinion, so connected are 
they, either directly or indirectly, with his own private vie -va 
and opinions, that we can hardly expect more than an 
approximation to uncorrupted truth. The historian should 
be a man of no party, either in politics or religion, of no 
partialities or aversions, with no avowed or secret aim but 
naked truth ; and rarely indeed can such a man be found. 

3. Style of historical writings. 

In examining a historical production of modern times, 
we find that there is a diversity in its different parts, requir- 
ing variety in the style in which it is written. Some por- 
tions are simply narrative; others argumentative. There 
are found relations g/ striking and imposing occurrences, 
and descriptions of natural scenery and of works of art. 
Some histories also contain descriptions of men, or charac- 
ter-painting. Here evidently is occasion for variety of style. 
Narration and argument require chasteness and simplicity. 
Descriptive writing allows a freer range to the imagination. 
This is in fact a species of historical painting ; and though 
it must be true to the original, it admits the adornings of 
fancy. 

It may be said, in general, of the style of history, that it 
should have simplicity and gravity. Instruction is the appro- 
priate employment of the historic muse ; still she would 
allure us to the study of the lessons which she teaches. She 
may well be styled a matron among the muses; and the 
words which she utters, and the aspect which she weais, are 
those of maternal simplicity and endearment. It is wel 1 
known, that ancient historians proposed the amusement of 
their readers as a prominent object of their efforts. When 
Herodotus wrote, he had in immediate view the assembled 
throng at the Olympic games. Indeed it may be said, that 



ON STYLE. 211 



histories are among the most polished and elegant produc- 
tions of ancient literature. And even now that History and 
Philosophy are found in alliance, much of the polish and 
elegance of former times is retained. 

In tracing the progress of historical writings, we are led 
to notice varieties in their form, which occur at successive 
periods. The earliest records of nations belong to their 
poetry, and the connexion between epic poetry and narrative 
history is close. This is seen, not only in the style, but in 
the incidents narrated. Such are the marvellous exploits of 
heroes, uncommon and striking occurrences, and events, 
both in the natural and moral world, approaching the mi- 
raculous. Amusement, and not instruction, is evidently a 
leading design of the writer. The resemblance between 
ancient histories and modern historical novels, is striking. 
Both aim to carry us back to former periods, and to make 
present to us the scenes which then transpired. Of these 
ancient histories, but few have come down to us. Herodo 
tus is usually placed in this class, though the accuracy of his 
geographical statements, and the amount of true informa- 
tion which he gives, might entitle him to a higher rank. 

In the next period, are placed those rightly styled nar- 
rative historians. In these writings, we find true accounts 
of occurrences distinctly and fully stated in regular succes- 
sion. The corrse of the narrative and the style are natu- 
ral and easy. There has apparently been little effort on the 
part of the writer, and little is required on our part in fol- 
lowing him. It is a plain, easy route, and we advance in it 
pleasantly, gathering instruction as we proceed. Xenophon 
among the G'eek, and Livv among the Latin historians, 
may be mentioned as excelling in this form of historical 
writing. The easy, artless, natural manner, which charac- 
terizes their works, — the simple story which they tell, are 
fitted to excite grateful emotions, and recommend them high- 
ly to all their readers. 



212 



ON STYLE. 



In the third class of historical writers, we see the begin- 
nings of philosophical history. The writers allow them- 
selves in some remarks on the events which they relate 
They begin also to regard occurrences in their connexion 
with each other. Still there is not found any guiding, lead- 
ing principle, which runs through their works; neither is 
there displayed that knowledge of politics and of man, 
which is found in philosophical history. Thucydides ana 
Tacitus, especially the latter, are admirable instances ot 
this class of historians. 

The transition from such writers as Thucydides and Ta- 
citus to philosophical history, is easy. Some of the Italian 
writers lay claim to be regarded as the earliest philosophi- 
cal historians. Macchiavelli particularly is mentioned, as 
uniting the elegance and poetry of ancient history with the 
wisdom and gravity of philosophy. But it is to English lit- 
erature that we are to look for models in historical writing. 
Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon, are masters in the art. 

Biography is a branch of Historical writing, being design- 
ed to place before us the characters and important events in 
the lives of distinguished individuals. It is a kind of writ- 
ing, which, from the subjects on which it is employed, ex- 
cites much interest. The reader expects to see how one 
has conducted in scenes, the same, perhaps, or similar to 
those, with which he himself is conversant. At least, he is 
to have exhibited before him the workings of the huma^ 
mind, the views and feelings of one of like passions with 
himself. He is to learn something of the private character 
and of the retired hours of one, who as an actor in the moifci 
public scenes of life, or as an author and a scholar, hai 
oeen the object of his admiration. The following practica 
directions may be given, to aid those who attempt compo- 
sitions in this ciass of writings. 

1. In the selection of incidents to be narrated, the writei 



ON STYLE. 213 



of Biography should restrain himself to what is closely con- 
nected with the subject of his memoirs. In this way, the 
expectations of the intelligent reader will be met. He does 
not take up a biography, that he may read a collection of 
anecdotes, or that he may acquaint himself with the history 
of a particular period. He expects to learn the history and 
news of an individual, and to acquaint himself with the 
history of the times, so far only as this individual is con- 
cerned. 

The effect of neglecting the caution now given, and of 
introducing notices of other individuals merely because they 
lived at the same time, and narrations of other events, be- 
cause they happened at the same period, is to render a 
biography tedious and uninteresting. 

2. A second direction is, to present a just statement of 
facts and a fair view of character ; — let neither partiality 
nor aversion be discovered. 

Memoirs are most frequently written by the particular 
friends and associates of those, whose characters are de- 
scribed. The public are aware of this circumstance, and 
make allowances for the partialities of friendship. But if 
the eulogium is excessive, and the writer indulges himself 
in praise and high commendation, an effect is often producea 
different from that designed. It is much safer to state facts, 
and leave the reader to make his own inference and reflec- 
tions. We always suspect weakness, where there is an effort 
to appear strong. 

3. The style of Biographies should be characterized by 
ease and perspicuity. The story should need no allurements 
of style, to arrest and fix the attention of the reader. 

Character-painting is often regarded as a difficult species 
of writing, and he who attempts it, seems to gird himself 
for some great effort. Hence productions of this kind are 
»ften unnatural and labored. The sentences are ehort and 



214 ON STYLE. 



abrupt. There are striking contrasts and strong expres* 
sions. The picture is exhibited before us in bold relief 
and there is more effort that it may be striking, than that it 
be just. This kind of writing requires a skilful hand, and i* 
rarely attempted with success. In some of the best moderr 
biographies it is not found. 

Fictitious writings are extended fables, or tales, writ 
ten with the professed design of combining instruction with 
amusement. Some are of a historical kind, and are designer 
to acquaint us with the manners and customs of a by 
gone age. Others lay claim to be considered of an ethica' 
nature ; they profess to detect and expose the springs o' ac- 
tion ; they shew the rewards of virtue and the evil conse 
quences of vice ; and thus they would be auxiliaries to those 
who seek to improve and reform men. There are others 
that are mirrors of the passing age : they catch and reflect 
back to us the fashions as they rise. 

In estimating the merits of fictitious writings, our atten- 
tion is directed to three particulars, — the plot, the char- 
acters, and the moral. Each of these will now be briefly 
considered. 

By the plot of a fictitious work, is meant a connected 
series of incidents and actions, leading to some important 
and decided result. It is essential to success, that the 
course of events be not too obvious and direct. At least, 
there must be enough of intricacy in the story, and of un- 
certainty as to the final result, to awaken curiosity on the 
part of the reader, and lead him to form conjectures as to 
the event. Probability is another essential trait of a well 
formed plot. Men in fiction must feel and act as men in 
real life are wont to feel and act. It must be seen, that thfl 
force of circumstances is the same, and events must turn 
on universally recognized causes and principles of action 
Unity is a third requisite of a good plot. By unity, it is 



ON STYLE. 215 

meant, that every occurience and every event mentioned, 
should be a part of a connected series of events having some 
bearing on the object of the story. But while it is essen- 
tial that unity be preserved, and probability be not violated, 
the story must be somewhat removed from the common cur- 
rent of human affairs. It must be full of incident, and give 
room for the free workings of the imagination. We must 
be hurried forward from one situation to another ; — unlooked 
for events and frequent changes must occur. This is justly 
regarded as a most difficult part of fictitious writing. It 
is no small task, to take beings, with the passions, opinions, 
and varieties of character, which may be found and imagined 
among men, and set them to work, subjecting them only to 
such influences, as the nature of the human mind and heart 
allows. 

Next to the plot, the characters represented become 
objects of attention. And here it is requisite to success, 
that the characters be prominent, distinct and well supported. 
As the story goes forward, and different individuals are in- 
troduced to our notice, we must see in each one those dis- 
tinct traits, which, as in real life, may cause him to be re- 
membered and readily recognized, whenever afterwards met 
with. And further, there must be uniformity and consist- 
ency of action. After our acquaintance has been formed 
with the different characters introduced, we must be able 
to predict how they will act, under any given circumstances, 
in which they may be placed. 

To conceive in this way, and exhibit a marked, decided 
character, acting with uniformity and consistency, when 
subjected to the various influences bearing upon it in the 
progress of a long continued story, requires no small ingenuity 
and skill. It requires also a thorough and intimate acqucint- 
ance with human nature. It is to this source, that the 
novel writer is to look for the modifying influences on his 



216 ON STYLE. 



power. Under the limitations thus prescribed, he may com- 
pound the ingredients of human character at his will. He 
may form new and unknown characters, but not absurd and 
unnatural ones. It is an argument often brought in support 
of the utility of novels, that we thus obtain a knowledge of 
human nature. But unless the characters introduced are 
natural and well supported, no benefit of this kind will ac- 
crue ; and it is to be feared, that the mass of fictitious works 
are in this respect more injurious than beneficial, since they 
often present false notions of men and things, and thus lead 
their readers astray. 

That every fictitious work should be favorable to good 
morals, is universally allowed. At the end of a novel, as at 
the completion of the plans of a good moral government, it 
should be seen, that virtue has its reward, and that vice is 
punished. But it is not enough that such should be the 
conclusion of the tale. It should be borne in mind during 
its progress. In fact, the moral effect depends more on the 
impression made in the development of the story, than on 
a formal annunciation of some sound moral principle at its 
close. It is believed, that if the moral tendency of many 
novels were tested in this manner, they would be found to 
exert no favorable moral influence. There are and ever 
have been writers of fiction, and those too who profess them- 
selves friends of morality and religion, who shew, in the 
course of their works, that they have not themselves strength 
of principle enough to resist temptations to amuse their read- 
ers, at the expense of what to every upright man is sacred. 

The style of fictitious writings, since works of this class 
are addressed to the imagination, and are designed to please, 
may have both ornament and elegance. In an extended 
work,, however, it must vary with the character of different 
parts. Some portions are simply narrative, requiring a plain, 
didactic manner. Others are descriptive, requiring more or 



ON STYLE. 217 



feas e.evation of style. Occasionally also, as in ancient his 
tories, letters, speeches, and discussions of various kinds, 
are introduced, requiring correspondent changes in the style 

Fictitious writings in some form have been known in 
almost every age and nation. More than any other class of 
literary productions, they exhibit to us the manners, and 
feelings, and opinion.!, of the times when they were written. 
Like an extended river, flowing through varieties of soil and 
scenery, they show us the peculiarities of the region through 
which they pass. English literature has its full share of 
fictitious writing. It has been - reserved to a writer of our 
own age, to present it to us in a form, which, whether we 
regard the skill and power with which it is executed, or its 
value as combining instruction with amusement, has not 
been surpassed. 

An Argumentative Discussion is the examination of 
a subject with the design of establishing some position that 
has been taken, or of maintaining some opinion that has 
been advanced. It requires powers of research and investi- 
gation, joined with comprehensiveness and strength of intel- 
lect. When successfully executed, it is the effort of a well 
disciplined mind, as it takes up a subject worthy the exer- 
tion of its powers, and placing facts and principles in due 
order and connexion, presents before us a full and impres- 
sive view. 

The most important directions to be observed in this 
kind of writing are, 1. That the subject of discussion be 
fully stated and explained. 2. That strict method be ob- 
served in the arrangement of the several parts of the dis- 
course, and the object of the writer be kept constantly in 
view. So much was said on these topics in the first chapter 
of this work, that it is unnecessary here to enlarge upon them. 

The style of the discussion should be dignified and manly; 
forcible, rather than elegant. Expressions, which from the 
19 



218 ON STYLE. 



figurative use of language are bold and striking, may be 
happily introduced; and the production should abound in 
illustrations and interesting facts. 

An oration may be denned a popular address on sonte 
interesting and important subject. In listening to a per- 
formance of this kind, we expect the mind to be informed, 
the reasoning powers to be exercised, the imagination to be 
excited , and the taste improved. 

In compositions of this class, much depends on the happy 
selection of a subject. Many err in supposing, that an ora- 
tion should have declamation rather than argument, orna- 
ment rather than sense. In opposition to this, it should 
always be remembered, that it is a production addressed both 
to the understanding and the imagination. Instead then of 
selecting a subject, which may afTord opportunity foi con- 
testing some disputed point, it should be one which requires 
a statement and elucidation of interesting facts and princi- 
ples — a course of calm, digni'ied and persuasive reasoning. 
At the same time, it should allow of fine writing. There 
should be opportunity for description and pathos ; for his 
torical and classical allusions and illustrations, and for com- 
prehensive and ennobling views. It should admit alsc unity 
of plan. The style of orations should be elevated anJ ele- 
gant; the forms of expression manly and dignified, and at 
the same time characterized by force and vivacity. The 
ornament should be of a high kind — such as ennobles and 
exalts the subject. Diffuseness, as has been remarked, is 
also desirable. 

Selections from different authors, shewing the qualities of 
style mentioned in the different sections of this chapter, are 
found among the Exercises. (Ex. on Chap. 5.) 

In concluding the attempt, that has now peen made, to 
state the principles and rules of composition in English, 1 



ON STYLE. 219 



would enforce the following general directions for forming 
a good style. 

1. Be familiar with the best models of style. 

In observing this injunction, the attention should no 
doubt be principally directed to the best writers of the pres- 
ent day. There are peculiarities of style, which charac- 
terize the productions of different periods, no less than of 
different individuals; and to be esteemed a good writer 
some regard must be paid to the literary taste of the age 
The inquiries may here arise, what is the character of th 
prevalent style of our times, and where may the best models 
of writing be found ? With the view of more fully answer- 
ing these inquiries, I shall here introduce a short account 
of some prominent changes in the style of English writers. 

If we go back to the time of Hooker, and Barrow, and 
Taylor, we find prevalent a rough, plain and energetic man- 
ner of writing. The literary men of that period were men 
of thought. Having but few books, and those difficult of 
access, they relied chiefly on the resources cf their own 
minds. Hence their conceptions were distinct, and theif 
expressions are marked by the freshness and strength of 
originality of thought. At the same time, from their famil 
iarity with Greek and Latin literature, and from their occa 
sionally composing in the latter of these languages, they 
acquired a harshness and stiffness of expression. Hence the 
style of the period may be characterized as forcible and 
often elevated, but at the same time harsh and labored. 

Another period in the history of English style, worthy of 
our particular notice, is the reign of Queen Anne. Th& 
writers of that golden age were finished scholars — men of 
knowledge, wit and refinement, and we admire their skill 
in the use of words, their rich figurative langi age, and the 
smoothness and harmony of their periods. We are pleased 
nlso with the thoughts which they convey to us, and wUh 



220 



OTNi STYLE. 



the allusions and happy illustrations, with which these 
thoughts are embellished. At the same time, we discern 3 
marked difference between these writers and those before 
mentioned in their intellectual resources and energies. 
There is less of boldness of conception, less of comprehen- 
siveness and exaltation of view, less of freedom of expression. 
The style of the latter period seems formed in one uniform 
mould, and the different writers exhibit not so much the 
characteristic marks of their own peculiar manner of think- 
ing, as they do a conformity to some established standard. 

That the influence of the polish and refinement of this 
period was most favorable, cannot be doubted. English 
style acquired an ease and elegance, which it had never 
possessed. Its forms of expression were idiomatic, its orna- 
ment had simplicity and beauty. The permanent influence 
of this progress has been felt in the improvement of our 
language itself. 

But if we admit that the improvements in our language 
made at this period, and the ease and beauty of expression 
introduced, compensate for want of boldness and vigor of 
thought and expression, it must still be allowed, that the 
effect of the close imitation of these polished writers was in- 
jurious. For many years following the period of which we 
have last spoken, there was manifestly too great ambition 
among writers, to form their style on the model of Addison* 
ian ease and simplicity. Hence freedom from faults, a neg- 
ative sort of excellence, was the object at which they aimed; 
ana m their painful efforts for polish and refinement of style, 
they forgot to think for themselves, and nobly speak their 
thoughts. Such, with few exceptions, was the character of 
English writers for many years following the time of Addison 

Within the last thirty years, another change in English 
Ptyle has been gradually making progress. The nerveless 
polish and refinement of the former period, have been giving 



ON STYLE 22J 



place to directness, and manliness, and strength of expression 
In these traits of style, we seem to be going back to the 
times of Hooker and Barrow. But the improvements of 
intervening periods have not been lost. Our language has 
become more definite in the use of words, more harmonious 
m its sounds, and more copious in its terms. 

The good writer of the present day seems ever to write 
under a degree of excitement. He is full of his subject, and 
his attention is directed to what he shall say, rather than to 
the manner of conveying his thoughts. His expressions 
have an air of originality about them. There is no toil- 
some selection of words, no labored composition of senten- 
ces, no high wrought ornament ; but the words, and senten- 
ces, and ornaments, are such as most naturally and obvious 
ly present themselves to the excited mind. If a word is 
more expressive of his meaning than any other, he uses it, 
though it may never have been introduced to so good com- 
pany before. If a form of sentence occurs to him, which is 
more easy and idiomatic than another, he adopts it, and 
stops not to inquire whether it end in a trisyllable, or a mon- 
osyllable. If a figurative expression strikes him as perti- 
nent and happy, he uses it, and leaves it for others to exam- 
ine, whether it be found in the numbers of the Spectator, 
and have the authority of classical writers for its support 
In short, instead of imitating the style of any other writer 
as his guide, he has a style of his own, and observes the 
maxim of Horace in the literal use of the term, 
Nullius addictus jurare in verba magistri. 

The most characteristic faults of the prevalent style of the 
present day, are incorrectness and affectation of strength. 
Though we could not condemn the writer, who, borne along 
by the rapid and impetuous flow of his thoughts, disaains 
Lhe restraints of minor rhetorical rules, yet there are cer- 
Aio limits, beyond which no one can pass without censure. 
19* 



222 ON STYLE. 



No one can be esteemed a good writer, whose manner of 
writing is not perspicuous. Hence no rule, the observance 
of which is essential to perspicuity, can be violated with- 
out the charge of incorrectness. If a writer uses words in 
a foreign or improper signification, no excellence can atone 
for these defects. If, in the composition of his sentences, 
he neglects to observe those rules, which require unity and 
a right arrangement of the several clauses and parts, to that 
degree which produces obscurity, he cannot receive the name 
of a good writer. It is too often the case, that modern wri- 
ters, in the haste and ardor with which they compose, are 
guilty of violations of these rules. 

The other fault which has been mentioned, is an affecta- 
tion of strength of expression. This arises from the pro- 
pensity, so natural to man, of going to extremes. Because 
strength is a characteristic of the style of the good writer of 
the present day, many are evidently laboring hard, through 
their whole composition, for its attainment They are ever 
seeking after new and forcible forms of expression, and 
searching for striking and dazzling illustrations. What is 
thus unnatural and forced must ever be disgusting. 

In answer to the inquiry, where these models of writing 
are to be found, the study of which may aid in acquiring 
the style of the present day, I would first direct the atten- 
tion to the literary Reviews of the time. This class of 
writings not only contains the best part of the literature of 
the age, but has done much towards the improvement of 
our style. Especially has the Edinburgh Review contribu- 
ted much to this object. It was the first to lead the way 
in that fearlessness and boldness of thought and expression, 
winch have succeeded to the tameness and excessive polish 
of a former period. The Orations and popular Addresses of 
the day, may be mentioned as another class of writings fur- 
lushing models of good writing. But I would recorr »n<? 



ON STYLE. 223 



o him who would acquire a good style, that instead of con- 
fining the attention to models of good writing of the present 
day, he go back to an earlier period in English literature. 
Let him study the works of those great men of former aays, 
who, conscious of an intellectual supremacy, stood forth with 
a noble spirit of independence and self-reliance, as the 
guides and instructors of their times ; and who, feeling the 
responsibility attached to their high gifts and attainments, 
sought not the praises of their contemporaries only, but, to 
use the noble language of Milton, " that lasting fame and 
perpetuity of praise which God and good men have consented, 
shall be the reward of those whose published labors advance 
the good of mankind." He will indeed find in these wri- 
tings inelegancies and inaccuracies of expression : — he will 
meet words and phrases which will appear to him strange and 
uncouth ; but these deficiencies are amply compensated by a 
noble freedom and strength of thought, and a richness and di- 
rectness of expression. Let him then study these models, that 
his mind may become assimilated to theirs, — that he may be 
actuated by the same spirit, and shew forth the same energy 

2. Compose frequently and with care. 

It should be remembered by all those who would attain 
a good style, that every good writer has made himself such. 
Instructors and works on Rhetoric may point out excellen- 
ces, and give cautions, but they can never make good wri- 
ters. A good style can be attained only by writing fre- 
quently and with care. 

But it is not enough that efforts be made ; they should be 
well-directed. The first object of attention should be to ac- 
quire a distinct and well-matured view of the subject. In 
this way a degree of interest in it will be excited, and the 
words and expressions, which offer themselves to the exci- 
ted mind in conveying what it distinctly sees, will ordinari- 
y be the best, There will, it is true, in the efforts of the 



224 ON STYLE. 



young writer, be inaccuracies and violations of rules, bu 
these may be removed in revisal. There is danger, howev 
er, lest, in this revisal, an attempt to refine and polish de- 
stroy the force and originality of the expressions. It is bet- 
ter merely to correct inaccuracies, and to leave a higher 
degree of polish to be attained by an impiovement of the 
taste, resulting from the study of good models. Let not 
then the young writer direct his efforts for improvement sole- 
ly to the choice of his words, or the composition of his sen- 
tences, or waste them in a search after figurative expres- 
sions and the ornaments of style. Let him rather aim at the 
attainment of distinct views of his subject, and the clear 
and forcible exhibition of these views to others. 

When a good style has been formed, it is still of impor 
tance to compose occasionally with care and attention 
The style of an individual in some respects resembles the 
hand-writing. If he acquires the ability of writing a fail 
and legible hand, and afterwards, in the hurry of business, is 
led to write rapidly and carelessly, his hand-writing will de- 
teriorate. If he continues to bestow on it a usual share of 
attention, it will remain the same. If occasionally he 
writes with attention, and labors to improve it, he will im- 
prove it. The same is true of style ; and since, in the dis- 
charge of the common duties of a profession, it may be dif- 
ficult to devote attention to the manner of compositon, ii 
may be well occasionally to discuss and exhibit some sub- 
ject with more than jsual care. 

A good style is an attainment, which amply repays all the 
effort that is here enjoined. It is to the scholar, a consum- 
mation of his intellectual discipline and acquirements. He, 
who in this land of free institutions holds an able pen, has a 
weapon of powerful efficacy both for defence and attack 
and if this weapon be wielded with honest and patriotic mo 
tives, he who wields it, may become a public benefactor 



EXERCISES ON CHAPTER S 



EXERCISE I. 



First, merefore, every morning, make your private prayer unto 
Mmighty God, give him thanks for his protection of you the night 
oast, and that he hath brought you to the morning, and desire him 
to bless and direct you by his grace and providence that day, and to 
preserve you from the evils and dangers of it, and to keep you in 
obedience to him. 

Secondly, a little before you go to bed, make again your private 
prayers to God, returning him thanks for his protection, and for 
bringing you to the end of the day; desire him to forgive you the 
sins and failings of the day, and beg his protection over you the night 
following. 

Always be attentive to your prayers, and keep your mind upon 
the business you are about, with all due seriousness and solemness, 
without playing or staring about, or thinking of other matters ; for 
you must remember that in prayer you are speaking to the great 
God of heaven and earth, that doth not only see and observe your 
outward carriage, but also the very thoughts of your hearts and 
mind. 

Let no occasion whatsoever hinder you from your private, con 
stant devotion toward Almighty God, but be steady and fixed, and 
resolved in it ; and not go about any business of importance (but 
only reading of a chapter, whereof in the next) till you have performed 
this duty ; and although it be upon the Lord's Day, when you go 
to public prayers, morning and afternoon, and though there be morn- 
tag and evening prayers in the schools or college where yoa liv« 



226 



EXERCISER 



yet this must not make you omit your private devotions ; for it must 
be a solemn and sacred employment, as a great and necessary meana 
of your protection, and blessing, and safety, the ensuing day or 
night. I was ever distrustful of the success of that business which 
I undertook before I commended myself and affairs to Almighty 
God in my private morning prayers. 

Let all your thoughts and words be full of reverence ; think not 
of him lightly, nor speak of him, nor use his name vainly ; consider, 
it is he by whose mercy and goodness you live and have all the 
blessings and comforts you enjoy, and that can call them away from 
you at his pleasure j it is he that knows all your thoughts, words 
and actions, and discerns whether they are such as are decent, be- 
coming, and suitable to his will and presence ; it is he that sees you 
thougn you see him not, and this is the reason of the third com- 
mandment, whereby you are forbidden to take his name in vain. 

Sir Matthew Hale. 

Analysis. 1. An injunction te pray every morning, with a bn<»f 
statement of the objects of morning prayer. 

2. An injunction to pray in the evening, and the objects of evening 
prayer. 

3. Directions as to the conduct during time of prayer, with a reason 
assigned. 

4. Injunction to be uniform and strict in the observance of the duty, 
enforced by a reference to the writer's experience. 

5. Injunctions as to the general state of the thoughts and feelings 
towards God, with the reasons assigned. 

In looking at this analysis, it is obvious, that though the different 
paragraphs are distinct from each other, they are connected together 
by their general bearing on the leading design of the writer ; — they 
all tend to enforce the constant and right performance of the duty 
of prayer. We are also led to notice the directness and simplicity, 
which are found both in the thoughts and expressions. The ampli 
fication is for the most part explanatory ; so far as reasons are as- 
signed, they are briefly stated, and are such as commend themfjelvea 
to the good sense and the moral feelings of the reader. The passage 
extracted s an.examole of didactic preceptive writing. 



EXERCISES. 22? 



EXERCISE II. 

Daily Prayer — Evening. 

Let us now consider another part of the day which is favorable to 
the duty of prayer; we mean the evening. This season, like the 
morning, is calm and quiet. Our labors are ended. The bustle of 
life is gone by. The distracting glare of the day has vanished. 
The darkness which surrounds us favors seriousness, composure, and 
solemnity. At night the earth fades from our sighT., and nothing of 
creation is left to us but the starry heavens, so vast, so magnificent, 
so serene, as if to guide up our thoughts above all earthly things to 
God and immortality. 

This period should in part be given to prayer, as it furnishes a 
variety of devotional topics and excitements. The evening is the 
close of an important division of time, and is therefore a fit and nat 
ural season for stopping and looking back on the day. And can we 
ever look back on a day, which bears no witness to God, and lays 
no claim to our gratitude ? Who is it that strengthens us for daily 
labor, gives us daily bread, continues our friends and common 
pleasures, and grants us the privilege of retiring, after the cares of 
the day, to a quiet and beloved home ? 

The review of the day will often suggest not only these ordioa 7 
benefits, but peculiar proofs of God's goodness, unlooked for suc- 
cesses, singular concurrences of favorable events, singular blessings 
sent to our friends, or new and powerful aids to our own virtue, 
which call for peculiar thankfulness. And shall all these benefits 
pass away unnoticed ? Shall we retire to repose as insensible as the 
wearied brute? How fit and natural is it to close with pious ac- 
knowledgment that day which has been filled with divine benefi- 
cence ! 

But the ev?ning is the time to review, not only our blessings, but 
ouj actions. A reflecting mind will naturally remember at thi* 
fiour that another day is gone, and gone to testify of us to our Judge 
How natural and useful to inquire what report it has carried to 
iieaven ! Perhaps we have the satisfaction of looking back on a daj 
which in its general tenor has been innocent and pure, which, 
saving begun with God's praise, has been spent as in his presence ; 



25W 



EXERCISES. 



which has proved the reality of our principles in temptation; and 
shall such a day end without gratefully acknowledging Him in whose 
strength we have been strong, and to whom we owe the powers and 
opportunities of Christian improvement? 

But no day will present to us recollections of purity unmixed 
with sin. Conscience, if suffered to inspect faithfully and speak 
plainly, will recount irregular desires and defective motives, talents 
wasted and time misspent ; and shall we let the day pass from us 
without penitently confessing our offences to Him who has witness- 
ed them, and who has promised pardon to true repentance ? Shall 
we retire to rest with a burden of unlamented and unforgiven guilt 
upon our consciences ? Shall we leave these stains to spread over 
and sink into the soul ? 

A religious recollection of oar lives is one of the chief instruments 
of piety. If possible, no day should end without it. If we take no 
account of our sins on the day on which they are committed, can we 
hope that they will recur to us at a more distant period, that we shall 
watch against them to-morrow, or that we shall gain the strength tc 
resist them, which we will not implore ? 

The evening is a fit time for prayer, not only as it ends the day, 
but as it immediately precedes the period of repose. The hour of 
activity having passed, we are soon to sink into insensibility and 
sleep. How fit that we resign ourselves to the care of that Being 
who never sleeps, to whom the darkness is as the light, and whose 
Drovidence is our only safety ! How fit to entreat him that he 
would keep us to another day ; or, if our bed should prove our grave, 
that he would give us a part in the resurrection of the just, and 
awake us to a purer and immortal life ! Let our prayers, like the 
ancient sacrifices, ascend morning and evening. Let our days begin 
and e .u with God. 

Channing. 

Remarks. This passage is an example of didactic persuasive 
writing, but it is not sufficiently extended to bring to view the plan 
and other peculiarities of this class of compositions. In the remarks 
made upon it, the attention will be principally directed to the ampli 
fication. 

1. The evening is a part of the day in itself favorable to the duty 
of prayer. Under this head, the amplification is of the nature oi 
proof, being an enumeration of those circumstances favorable tv' 
devotion, which are peculiar to the close of the day. These circuni 



EXERCISES. 229 



stances are matters of common observation, and do not require to be 
substantiated by authorities or arguments of any kind. The bare 
s lggestion of them is all that is necessary and all that is attempted 

2. The evening, offers several topics and excitements favorable te 
ievotion. 

Of these topics, the review of mercies common and special received 
during the day, is first mentioned. The amplification here consists 
of a brief enumeration of these mercies, with appeals to our gratitude 
and to our sense of what is fit and natural to man in the relation 
which he sustains to his Heavenly Benefactor. 

Another topic which offers itself is a review of our actions. Here 
a reference is made tc our condition as accountable beings, and we 
are led to consider what report respecting our conduct, the day has 
borne to Heaven. Wherein we have been kept from wrong and en- 
abled to do right, we are gratefully to acknowledge Him, in whose 
strength we have been strong. Wherein we have done wrong, we 
are penitently to confess our sins and to seek forgiveness. Here 
also the amplification consists of an appeal to our emotions of grati 
tude, to our conscience, and to our self-interest. In connection with 
the last consideration, the writer is led to speak of a religious recol- 
lection of our lives as an instrument of piety. 

Another distinct topic is now mentioned. The evening precedes 
the period of repose. This lays the foundation of an appeal to what 
is fit — to what our own safety and welfare require. We are to sink 
into a state of insensibility and sleep. Shall we not commit our- 
selves to the care of that Being, who never slumbers nor sleeps ? 



EXERCISE III. 

Defence of Literary Studies in Men of Business. 

Among the cautions which prudence and worldly wisdom inculcate 
on the young, or at least among those sober truths which experience 
often pretends to have acquired, is that danger which is said to result 
from the pursuit of letters and of science, in men destined for the la- 
Dors of business for the active exertions of professional life. The 
abstract on of learning, the speculations of science, and the visionary 
excursions of fancy, are fatal, it is said, to the steady pursuit of com 
20 



230 EXERCISES. 



mon objects, to the habits of plodding industry which ordinary busi 
ness demands. The fineness of mind which is created or increased 
by the study of letters, or the admiration of the arts, is supposed to 
incapacitate a man for the drudgery by which professional eminence 
is gained ; as a nicely tempered edge applied to a coarse and rugged 
material is unable to perform what a more common instrument 
would have successfully achieved. A young man destined for law 
or commerce is advised to look only into his folio of precedents, or 
his method of book-keeping ; and dulness is pointed to his homage, 
as that benevolent goddess, under whose protection the honors of 
station and the blessings of opulence are to be attained ; while 
learning and genius are proscribed as leading their votaries to bar 
ren indigence and merited neglect. 

In doubting the truth of these assertions, 1 think I shall not enter- 
tain any hurtful degree of skepticism, because the general current 
of opinion seems of late years to have set too strongly in the contrary 
direction ; and one may endeavor to prop the falling cause of litera- 
ture without being accused of blamable or dangerous partiality. 

In the examples which memory and experience produce of idle- 
ness, of dissipation, and of poverty, brought on by indulgence of 
literary or poetical enthusiasm, the evidence must necessarily be on 
one side of the question only. Of the few whom learning or genius 
has led astray, the ill success or the ruin is marked by the celebrity 
of the sufferer. Of the many who have been as dull as thev were 
profligate, and as ignorant as they were poor, the fate is unknown, 
from the insignificance of those by whom it was endured. If we 
may reason a priori on the matter, the chance, I think, should be on 
the side of literature. 

In young minds of any vivacity, there is a natural aversion to the 
drudgery of business, which is seldom overcome, till the efferves- 
cence of youth is allayed by the progress of time and habit, or till 
that very warmth is enlisted on the side of their profession, by the 
opening prospects of ambition or emolument. From this tyranny. 
as youth conceives it, of attention and of labor, relief is commonly 
sought from some favorite avocation or amusement, for which a 
young man either finds or steals a portion of his time, either patiently 
plods through his task, in expectation of its approach, or anticipates 
its arrival by deserting his work before the legal period for amuse 
ment is arrived. It may fairly be questioned, whether the most in- 
nocent of those amusements, is either so honorable or so safe as the 



EXERCISES. 231 

avocation of learning or of science. Of minds uninformed and 
gross, whom youthful spirits agitate, but fancy and feeling have no 
power to impel, the amusement will generally be either boisterous 
or effeminate, will either dissipate their attention or weaker: their 
force. The employment of a young man's vacant hours is often too 
little attended to by those rigid masters, who exact the most scrupu- 
lous observance of the periods destined for business. The waste of 
time is undoubtedly a very calculable loss ; but the waste or the 
depravation of mind is a loss of much higher denomination. The 
notary of study, or the enthusiast of fancy, may incur the first, but the 
latter will be suffered chiefly by him whom ignorance or want of 
imagination has left to the grossness of mere sensual enjoyments. 

In this, as in other respects, the love of letters is friendly to sober 
manners and virtuous conduct, which in every profession is the road 
to success and to respect. Without adopting the common-place re- 
flections against some particular departments, it must be allowed 
that in mere men of business there is a certain professional rule of 
right, which is not always honorable, and though meant to be selfish, 
very seldom profits. A superior education generally corrects this, 
by opening the mind to different motives of action, to the feelings of 
delicacy, the sense of honor, and a contempt of wealth, when earned 
by a desertion of those principles. 

To the improvement of our faculties as well as of our principles, 
the love of letters appears to be favorable. Letters require a certain 
sort of application, though of a kind perhaps very different from that 
which business would recommend. Granting that they are unprof- 
itable in themselves, as that word is used in the language of the 
world, yet, as developing the powers of thought and reflection, they 
may be an amusement of some use, as those sports of children in 
which numbers are used to familiarize them to the elements of 
arithmetic. They give room for the exercise of that discernment, 
that comparison of objects, that distinction of causes which is to in- 
crease the skill of the physician, to guide the speculations of the 
merchant, and to prompt the arguments of the lawyer ; and though 
Borne professions employ but very few faculties of the mind, yet 
there is scarce any branch of business in which a man who can think 
will not excel him who can only labor. We shall accordingly find, 
n many departments where learned information seemed of all qual- 
ties the least necessary, that those who possessed it in a degree 



232 EXERCISES. 

above their fellows, have found, from thai veiy circumstance, tlie 
road to eminence and wealth. 

But I must often repeat, that wealth does not necessarily create 
happiness, nor confer dignity ; a truth which it may be thought dec- 
lamation to insist on, which the present time seems particularly to 
require being told. 

The love of letters is connected with an independence and delica- 
cy of mind, which is a great preservative against that servile hom- 
age which abject men pay to fortune ; and there is a certain classi- 
cal pride, which from the society of Socrates and Plato, Cicero and 
Atticus, looks down with an honest disdain on the wealth-blown in- 
sects of modern times, neither enlightened by knowledge nor ennobled 
by virtue. 

In the possession, indeed, of what he has attained, in that rest and 
retirement from his labors, with the hopes of which his fatigues were 
lightened and his cares were smoothed, the mere man of business 
frequently undergoes suffering, instead of finding enjoyment. To 
be busy as one ought is an easy art ; but to know how to be idle is 
a very superior accomplishment. This difficulty is much increasea 
with persons to whom the habit of employment has made some active 
exertion necessary ; who cannot sleep contented in the torpor of in 
dolence, or amuse themselves with those lighter trifles in which he, 
who inherited idleness as he did fortune from his ancestors, has been 
accustomed to find amusement. The miseries and misfortunes of 
the " retired pleasures " of men of business have been frequently 
matter of speculation to the moralist, and of ridicule to the wit. But 
he who has mixed general knowledge with professional skill, and 
literary amusements with professional labor, will have some stock 
wherewith to support him in idleness, some spring for his mind 
when unbent from business, some employment for those hours wnich 
retirement or solitude has left vacant and unoccupied. Indepen- 
dence in the use of one's time is not the least valuable species of 
freedom. This liberty the man of letters enjoys; while the igno- 
rant and the illiterate often retire from the thra dom of business on'y 
to become the slaves of languor, intemperance or vice. 

But the situation in which the advantages of that endowment of 
mind, which letters bestow, are chiefly conspicuous, is old age, whew 
a man's society is necessarily circumscribed, and his powers of ac« 
tive enjoyment are unavoidably diminished. Unfit for the bustle of 
affairs, and the amusements of his vouth, an old man, if he hag nc 



EXERCISES. 



233 



source of mental exertion or employment, often settles into the 
gloom of melancholy and peevishness, or petrifies his feelings by 
nabitual intoxication. From an old man whose gratifications were 
eolely derived from those sensual appetites which time has blunted, 
or from those trivial amusements of which youth only can share, 
age has cut off almost every source of enjoyment. But to him who 
has stored his mind with the information, and can still employ it in 
the amusement of letters, this blank of life is admirably fillea up. 
He acts, he thinks, and he feels with that literary world whose 
society he can at all times enjoy. There is perhaps no state more 
capable of comfort to ourselves, or more attractive of veneration from 
others, than that which such an old age affords ; it is then the twi- 
light of the passions, when they are mitigated but not extinguished 
and spread their gentle influence over the evening of our day, in 
alliance with reason and in amity with virtue. Mackenzie. 

Remarks and Analysis. In examining the preceding example of 
Argumentative writing, our principal object of attention will be the 
plan or management of the subject. 

The Introduction consists of an indirect statement of the question 
to be agitated. We are told how those have thought and reasoned 
whose opinions are opposed to the opinions of the writer. This 
statement is distinctly, and fairly, and skilfully made. Our literary 
taste is gratified by the illustrations and ornaments of language which 
are found. Our -curiosity is roused, and we are ready to enter with 
interest on the proposed investigation. It should be noticed, that 
there is no formal statement of the proposition which is to be sup- 
ported, but that it is clearly and happily implied in the introductory 
paragraphs. 

After the introduction, follows the refutation of an objection. 
That this is the proper place for considering the objection stated, is 
evident, since, had it been unnoticed, or its refutation deferred to 
the close of the Essay, the minds of readers might have been pre- 
vented by its influence from giving due weight to the arguments ad- 
duced. There are two modes of refuting objections ; one, by deny- 
ing the premises from which a conclusion is drawn — the other, by 
ehowing that the conclusion does not truly follow from the premises. 

The objection here considered is — that facts establish the oppo- 
site of the opinion advanced by the writer — of course, the opinion 
tan have no good foundation. To refute the objection, the premise 

20* 



234 EXERCISES. 



is denied. Facts are otherwise, says the writer, and a satisfactory 
reason is assigned, why a different impression as to the bearing of 
facts on the case has prevailed. Having assigned this reason. thf» 
writer leases the point at issue a& to facts in the case, to be deter- 
mined by the observation and the good sense of his readers. 

Having thus introduced his subject to our attention, stating by 
implication the proposition to be examined, and having removed an 
objection, which presented itself at the threshold, the writer now 
enters on the direct examination of his subject. 

The following proposition is supported. Men of business may 
advantageously devote a portion of their time to literary pursuits. 

1st Argument. Young men of business should engage in literary 
studies, since in them is found a pleasant relaxation and security 
against hurtful indulgences. 

2d Argument. Young men of business should engage in literary 
studies, because in this way they acquire a refinement and exaltation 
of mind which raises them above grovelling and selfish principles 
and conduct. 

3d Argument. Young men of business should engage in literary 
studies, because the cultivation of letters is favorable to the improve- 
ment of the mind. 

4th Argument. A man of business should engage in literary pur- 
suits, because in this way he acquires an independence of feeling 
which prepares him to enjoy his wealth. Without cultivation of 
mind and a literary taste, the retirement of the man of wealth is wea- 
risome and disgusting to him. 

5th Argument. Men of business should cultivate letters that they 
may find in them grateful employment for old age. 

This is the plan. Upon examination, we find that it conforms to 
the directions given in the text-book. The several heads are distinct 
from each other. They have a similar bearing on the leading propo- 
sition to be supported, and taken together, they give a unity to the 
subject. 

The kind of a gument here used, is the argument from cause to 
effect. Different reasons are stated, which account for and support 
the assertion that is made, and which forms the leading proposi- 
tion. 

Let us now take a nearer view of these different arguments, and 
see in what way they are supported. Under the first argument, the 
reasoning is as follows : 1. Young men in business will have relax 



EXERCISES. 2'ti5 

ation and amusement: 2. Unless those of a salutary kind are pro- 
vided, they will fall into such as are hurtful. Hence the importance 
of their being directed to literary pursuits, which may interest and 
benefit them. It may be asked, On what authority do these asser- 
tions of the writer rest? How do we know that young men thus 
will have relaxation and amusement ? and that unless those of a salu- 
tary kind are provided, tney will fall into such as are hurtful? I 
answer, that these assertions rest on the common observation and 
experience of men. Hence the writer takes it for granted that those 
whom he addresses will yield their assent to his premises, and 
consequently, if his conclusion is correctly drawn, will acknowledge 
the reality of his argument. 

In analyzing the second argument, the inquiry arises, How is it 
known that literary studies give refinement and elevation to the 
mind, raising it above low and grovelling pursuits ? Here the appeal 
is to consciousness. Men, who have thus cultivated their intellcc 
tual powers are conscious, when they look in upon the operations 
of their own minds, that these salutary influences have been exerted 
upon them. 

The third argument, which asserts that the love of letters is favor- 
able to the cultivation of the intellectual powers, rests principally 
upon experience and observation. There is also found an illustra- 
tion, which is of an analogical kind. It is where the writer refers 
to those sports of children, which familiarize them with the elements 
of arithmetic. This argument from analogy may be looked upon as 
an appeal to the common sense of the readers. 

The remaining arguments rest in like manner on appeals to ex- 
perience, observation, common sense and consciousness, and it is not 
necessary to analyze them. The student, in the analysis which haa 
been made, has had an opportunity of seeing some of the grounds on 
which assertions and reasonings are founded. 



236 



EXERCISES. 



EXERCISE IV. 



Fortitude of the Indian Character. 

A party of the Seneca Indians came to war against the Katawbaa 
bitter enemies to each other. In the woods the former discovered 
a sprightly warrior belonging to the latter, hunting in their usual 
light dress : on his perceiving them, he sprang off for a hollow rock 
four or five miles distant, as they intercepted him from running 
homeward. He was so extremely swift and skilful with the gun, 
as to kill seven of them in the running fight before they were able 
to surround and take him. They carried him to their country in sad 
triumph ; but though he had filled them with uncommon grief 
and shame for the loss of so many of their kindred, yet the love of 
martial virtue induced them to treat him, during their long journey, 
with a great deal more civility than if he had acted the part of a 
coward. 

The women and children, when they met him at their severa! 
tuwns, beat him and whipped him in as severe a manner as the oc- 
casion required, according to their law of justice ; and at last he 
was formally condemned to die by the fiery torture. It might rea- 
sonably be imagined, that what he had for some time gone through, 
by being fed with a scanty hand, a tedious march, lying at night 
on the bare ground, exposed to the changes of the weather, with his 
arms and legs extended in a pair of rough stocks, and suffering such 
punishment on his entering into their hostile towns, as a prelude tr 
those sharper torments to which he was destined, would have so im- 
paired his health, and affected his imagination, as to have sent him 
to his long sleep, out of the way of any more sufferings. 

Probably this would have been the case with the major part of 
white people under similar circumstances; but I never knew this 
with any of the Indians ; and this cool-headed, brave warrior, did 
not deviate from their rough lessons of martial virtue, but acted his 
part so well as to surprise and sorely vex his numerous enemies: — 
for when they were taking him unpinioned, in their wild parade, to 
*he place of torture, which lay near the river, he suddenly dashed , 



EXERCISES. 23? 



down those who stood in his way, sprung off, and plunged into the 
water, swimming underneath like an otter, only rising to talf> breatn, 
till he reached the opposite shore. 

He ascended the steep bank, but though he had good reason to be 
in a hurry, as many of the enemy were in the watei, and others 
running, like blood-hounds, in pursuit of him, and the bullets flying 
around him from the time he took to the river, yet his heart aid not 
illow him to leave them abruptly. He chose to take leave in a for- 
mal manner, in return for the extraordinary favors they had done 
and intended to do him. So stopping a moment, he bid them defi- 
ance, in the genuine style of Indian gallantry, he put up the shrill 
warwhoop, as his last salute, till some more convenient opportunity 
jffered, and darted off" in the manner of a beast broke loose from its 
torturing enemies. 

He continued his speed, so as to run, by about midnight of the 
same day, as far as his eager pursuers were two days in reaching 
There he rested, till he happily discovered five of those Indians who 
had pursued him: — he lay hid a little way off their camp, till they 
were sound asleep. Every circumstance of his situation occurred to 
him and inspired him with heroism. He was naked, torn, and hungry. 
and his enraged enemies were come up with him ; but there was now 
every thing to relieve his wants, and a fair opportunity to save his life, 
*nd get great honor and sweet revenge by cutting them off. — Resolu- 
tion, a convenient spot, and sudden surprise, would effect the main 
object of all his wishes and hopes. 

He accordingly crept, took one of their tomahawks, and killed them 
*11 on the spot — clothed himself, and took a choice gun, and as much 
ammunition and provision as he could well carry in a running march. 
He set off afresh with a light heart, and did not sleep for several suc- 
sessive nights, except when he reclined as usual, a little before day, 
with his back to a tree. 

As it were by instinct, when he found he was free from the pursu- 
ing enemy, he made directly to the very place where he had been 
taken prisoner and doomed to the fiery torture, after having killed 
*even of his enemies. The bodies of these he dug up, burnt them 
to ashes, and went home in safety with singular triumph. Other 
pursuing enemies came, on the evening of the second day, to the 
eamp of their dead people, when the sight gave them a greater 
Bhock than they ever had known before. In their chilled war coun- 
cil thev concluded that as he had done such surprising things in his 



238 



EXERCISES. 



defence before he was captivated, and even after that, in his naked 
condition, he must surely be an enemy wizard ; and that, as he was 
now well armed, he would destroy them all should they continue the 
pursuit : — they therefore very prudently returned home. 

Adair. 

Remarks. In analyzing this example of narrative writing, ocr at 
tention is first to be directed to the leading purpose of the writer. 
This evidently is to tell us of the successful escape of a young Indian 
warrior from his enemies. Different facts are mentioned connected 
with this leading fact, — such are the circumstances of his captivity, 
of his being conducted in triumph through the towns and villages of 
his enemies, of his revenge on those from whom he had suffered ills, 
and of his triumphant return to his own tribe. These several facts 
are stated in the order of their occurrence, and dwelt upon according 
to their relative importance. Another purpose of the writer, which 
\s incidentally and skilfully effected, is the mention and illustration 
of several traits of Indian character. Such are fortitude, manifested 
m the patient endurance of extreme hardships and sufferings, — re« 
spect for martial virtue, rising at last to a superstitious reverence, - 
the strong thirst for revenge, gratified at an imminent risk and 
under the most perilous circumstances, and further, that cunning 
and duplicity, by which the escape and flight were effected. Every 
observing reader will also notice the deep interest, with which the 
story is read, increasing with the progress of the narrative, and evi- 
dently to be ascribed to the natural connexion of the events narrated 
We learn then from this example, that the plan, in narrative writing 
is simply the statement of events in the order of their occurrence 
and further, that the amplification is the mention, with varying de- 
grees of minuteness in their statement, of the different circumstances 
connected with these events, accompanied by ircidental rem* rks an* 
^flections 



EXERCISES. 239 



EXERCISE V 

The first and last Dinner. 



Twelve friends, much about the same age, and fixed by their 
pursuits, their family connexions, and other local interests, as per- 
manent inhabitants of the metropolis, agreed one day, when they 
were drinking wine at the Star and Garter at Richmond, to institute 
an annual dinner among themselves, under the following regula- 
tions : — That they should dine alternately at each other s houses on 
the first and last day of the year ; and the first bottle of wine un- 
eorkcd at + he first dinner should be recorked and put away, to be 
drunk Dy him who should be the last of their number , that they 
ehould never admit a new member; that, when one died, eleven 
should meet, and when another died, ten should meet, and so on ; 
and when only one remained, he should, on these two days, dine by 
uimself, and sit the usual hours at his solitary table ; but the first 
time he had so dined, lest it should be the only one, he should then 
uncork theirs* bottle, and in the first glass, drink to the memory of 
all who were gone. 

Some thirty years had now glided away, and only ten remained , 
out the stealing hand of time had written sundry changes in most 
legible characters. Raven locks had become grizzled ; two or three 
heads had not as many locks as may be reckoned in a walk of half a 
mile along the Regent's Canal — one was actually covered with a 
brown wig — the crow's feet were visible in the corner of the eye — 
good old port and warm Madeira carried it against hock, claret, red 
Durgundy, and champagne — - stews, hashes, and ragouts, grew into 
favor — crusts were rarely called for to relish the cheese after din 
aer — conversation was less boisterous, and it turned chiefly upon 
politics and the state of the funds, or the value of landed property 
— apologies were made for coming in thick shoes and warm stock- 
ngs — the doors and windows were more carefully provided with 
List and sand-bags — the fire is in more request — and a quiet game of 
whist filled up the hours that were wont to be devoted to drinking, 
singing, and riotous merriment. Two rubbers, a cup of colTee, and 
at home by eleven o'clock, was the usual cry, when the fifth or sixth 



240 



EXERCISES 



glass had gone round after the removal of the cloth. At parting, too, 
there was now a long ceremony in the hall, buttoning up great: 
coats, tying on woollen comforters, fixing silk handkerchiefs over 
the mouth and up to the ears, and grasping sturdy walking-canes to 
support unsteady feet. 

Their fiftieth anniversary came, and death had ndeed been busy 
Four little old men, of withered appearance and decrepit walk, wita 
cracked voices and dim, rayless eyes, sat down by the mercy of heav 
en, (as they tremulously declared,) to celebrate, for the fiftieth time, 
the first day of the year, to observe the frolic compact, which half 
a century before, they had entered into at the Star and Garter at 
Richmond. Eight were in their graves ! The four that remained 
stood upon its confines. Yet they chirped cheerily over their glass, 
though they could scarcely carry it to their lips, if more than half 
full: and cracked their jokes, though they articulated their worda 
with difficulty, and heard each other with still greater difficulty. 
They mumbled, they chattered, they laughed, (if a sort of strangled 
wheezing might be called a laugh,) and as the wine sent their icy 
blood in warmer pulses through their veins, they talked of theis 
past as if it were but a yesterday that had slipped by them , and of 
their future as if it were but a busy century that lay before them. 

At length came the last dinner ; and the survivor of the twelve 
upon whose head four score and ten winters had showered their snow, 
ate his solitary meal. It so chanced that it was in his house, and at 
his table, they celebrated the first. In his cellar, too, had remained 
for eight and forty years, the bottle they had then uncorked, recorked, 
and which he was that day to uncork again. It stood beside him 
With a feeble and reluctant grasp he took the "frail memorial" 
of a youthful vow, and for a moment memory was faithful to her 
office. She threw open the long vista of buried years ; and his heart 
travelled through them all: Their lusty and blithesome spring, — 
their bright and fervid summer, — their ripe and temperate autumn, 
— their chill, but not too frozen winter. He saw, as in a mirror, 
how one by one the laughing companions of that merry hour, at 
Richmond, had dropped into eternity. He felt the loneliness of Ins 
condition, (for he had eschewed marriage, and in the veins of no 
living creature ran a drop of blood whose source was in his own ;) 
and as he drained the glass which he had filled, " to the memory of 
those who were gone," the tears slowly trickled dcwn the deep fur- 
rows of his aged face . 



EXERCISES 2il 

He has thus fulfilled one part of his vow, and he prepared himself to 
discharge the other by sitting the usual number of hours at his 
desolate table. With a heavy heart he resigned himself to the gloom 
of his own thoughts — a lethargic sleep stole over him — his head 
fell upon his bosom — confused images crowded v nto his mind — he 
babbled to himself— was silent — and when hi? servant entered the 
room alarmed by a noise which he heard, he found his master 
stretched upon the carpet at the foot of an easy chair, out of which 
he had slipped in an apoplectic fit. He never spoke again, nor once 
opened his eyes, though the vital spark was not extinct till the fol 
lowing day. And this was the last dinner. 

This example of descriptive writing is justly admired. The only 
point to which it is designed to direct the attention of the student, is 
the selection of circumstances. Let any one, after reading the ex- 
tracts, especially the second and third paragraphs, notice with what 
distinctness and fulness the scene described is brought before his 
view — how, as it were, he is placed in the midst of the little group, 
and sees them, and hears them, and is made acquainted with their pe- 
culiarities. This, which in another part of this work is called truth 
to nature, is evidently effected by the skilful selection and arrange- 
ment of circumstances, and constitutes the amplification of descrip- 
tive writing. In some instances, especially where it is desirable that 
the description should be bold and striking, the enumeration of cir 
cumstances is less full and minute. But on this point, good sense and 
good taste must decide. 



EXERCISES ON CHAPTER III. 

In this exercise are found examples of the various orna- 
ments of style which are brought to view in the chapter on 
T literary Taste. In examining them the student should instil 
ate the following inquiries : — 

1 How is the example to be classed? 

2 Viewing it in itself, and in its connection, is it to be ap» 
Droved or condemned ? 

21 



242 



EXERCISES. 



In answering this second inquiry, the principles on whicb 
the attempt to excite the emotions of taste is founded, should 
be fully brought, to view. 

Example 1. President Kir kl and, after mentioning the ex- 
citement which attended the public efforts of the late Fisher 
Ames as a speaker, says :— - 

" This excitement continued when the cause had ceased to ope- 
rate. After debate his mind was agitated, like the ocean after a 
storm, and his nerves were like the phrouds of a ship to n by the 
tempest." 

Example 2. The attentions of a respectful and affec- 
tionate son to his mother are thus described by an anonymous 
writer : — 

" They are the native courtesies of a feeling mind, showing them 
selves amidst stern virtues and masculine energies, like gleams of 
light on points of rocks." 

Example 3. Say, in his Political Economy, when de- 
scribing the condition of the laborer in a manufacturing 
establishment, whose only occupation has been to fabricate a 
part of some article — the head of a pin perhaps — uses the 
following expression : — 

" He is, when separated from his fellow-laborers, a mere adjective, 
without individual capacity or substantive importance." 

Example 4. " Prayer must be animated. The arrow that would 
pie ice the clouds, must part from the bent bow and the strained 
arm." 

Example 5. The following passage is from W. Irving : — 

" I recollect hearing a traveller, of poetical temperament, express- 
ing the kind of horror which he felt in beholding, on the banks of the 
Missouri, an oak of prodigious size, which /iad been in a manne" 



EXERCISES. 243 



Dverpowered by an. enormous wild grape-vine. The vine had clasped 
;ts huge folds round the trunk, and from thence had wound about 
every branch and twig, until the mighty tree had withered in its 
embrace. It seemed like Laocoon struggling inetfectually in the 
hideous coils of the monster Python. It was the lion of trees ptrishing 
in the embraces of a vegetable Boa." 

Example 6. Webster, in his address to General La Fay- 
ette, has the following passage : — 

" Sir, we have become reluctant to grant monuments and eulogies 
— our highest and last honors — further. We would gladly hold them 
yet back from the little remnant of that immortal band. Serus in ccelum 
rxteas." 

Example 7. " The mind is the great lever of all things." 

Example 8. The following passage is addressed to time .- 

" Go, bind thine ivy o'er the oak, 
And spread thy rich embroidered cloak 

Around his trunk the while ; 
Or deck with moss the abbey wall, 
And paint grotesque the Gothic hall, 
And sculpture, with thy chisel small, 

The monumental pile. 

Example 9. "Thus she (the vessel) kept on, away up the nve., 
lessening and lessening in the evening sunshine, until she faded 
from sight, like a little white cloud melting away in the. summer 



Example 10. Ferguson, the Scotch poet, was in poverty 
and distress. A friend sent relief, but it did not arrive till 
\er his death. Of this generous act it is said, 



-Q 



"It fell a sunbeam on the blasted blossom." 

Example 11. " The husbandman sees all his fields and gardens 
lovered with the beauteous creations of his own industry ; and sees, 
ike God, that all his works are good." 



244 EXERCISES. 



Example 12. " Literary immortality is a mere temporary rumor, 
a local sound, Like the tone of a bell, it fills the ear for a moment™ 
lingering transiently in echo — and then passing away, like a thing 
that was not ! " 

Example 13. Dr. Appleton thus closes an address to a 
Peace Society : — 

" This society, and others formed for the same object, both in this 
country and in Europe, may now be compared to light clouds, far 
distant from each other, and no ' bigger than a man's hand.' It is 
for divine wisdom to determine, whether these clouds shall be 
speedily attenuated and dissolved; or whether they shall be thick 
ened and enlarged, and uniting with others, yet to be formed in the 
intermediate spaces, shall cover all the heavens, and shall distil the 
dew of heaven; 'the dew that descended on the mountains of 
Zion.' " 

Example 14. The following is from Canning's speech at 
Portsmouth, England: — 

,c Our present repose is no more proof of inability to act, than 
the state of inertness and inactivity, in which I have seen those 
mighty masses, that float in the waters above your town, is a proof 
that they are devoid of strength and incapable of being fitted for 
action. You well know how soon one of these stupendous masses, 
now reposing on their shadows with perfect stillness — how soon, upon 
any call of patriotism or of necessity, it would assume the likeness 
of an animated thing, instinct with life and motion ; how soon it 
would ruffle, as it were, its swelling plumage ; how quickly it would 
put forth all its beauty and bravery ; collect its scattered elements 
of strength, and awaken its dormant thunders. Such is one of those 
magnificent machines, when springing from inaction into a display 
of its might — such is England herself; while apparently passive and 
motionless, she silently concentrates the power to be put forth on 
*Jequate occasion." 

Example 15. The following is from the inaugural address 
of Professor Frisbie : — 



EXERCISES. 245 



u Miss Edgeworth has stretched forth a powerful hand to the im- 
potent m virtue ■ and had she added, with the apostle, in the name 
•of Jesus of Nazareth, we should almost have expected miracles from 
•ts touch." 

Example 16. The same writer, describing the influence 
of the poems of Byron, says : — 

" They are the scenes of a Summer evening, where all is tender, and 
beautiful, and grand ; but the damps of disease descend with the dews 
of Heaven, and the pestilent vapors of night are breathed in with the 
fragrance and balm, and the delicate and fair are the surest victims of 
the exposure." 

Example 17. " O, 'tis 

A goodly night ! the cloudy wind, which blew 
From the Levant, hath crept into his cave, 
And the broad moon hath brightened." 

Example 18. In a poem of Haley's, the following lines are 
addressed to Mr. Gibbon : — 

" Humility herself, divinely mild, 
Sublime Religion's meek and modest child, 
Like the dumb son of Croesus in the strife, 
When force assailed his father's sacred life 
Breaks silence, and with filial duty warm, 
Bids thee revere her parent's hallowed form." 

Example 19. The following is from Kennilworth : — 

11 The mind of England's Elizabeth was like one of those ancient 
Druidical monuments, called Rocking-stones. The finger of Cupid, boy 
is he is painted, could put her feelings in motion, but the power of 
Hercules could not have destroyed their equilibrium." 

Example 20. Another from the same author : — 

" The language of Scripture gave to Macbriar's exhortation a rich 
and solemn effect, like that which is produced by the beams of the 

21* 



245 EXERCISES. 



sun, streaming thrcugh the storied representation of saints and martyrs 
on the Gothic window of some ancient cathedral." 

Example 21. The following is from Percival : — 

" The quiet sea, 
That, like a giant resting from his toil, 
Sleeps in the morning sun." 

Example 22. " Yon row of visionary pines, 

By twilight glimpse discovered : mark ! how they flee 
From the fierce sea blast, all their tresses wild 
Streaming before them ! " 

Example 23. The following is from Smollet's history : — 

"The bill underwent a great variety of alterations and amendment? 
v? rich were not effected without violent contests. At lengtn, how 
ever, it was floated through both houses on the tide of a great majority 
and steered into the safe harbor of royal approbation." 

Example 24. " We are now advancing from the starlignt ot cir 
cumstance to the daylight of discovery ; the sun of certainty is 
melting the darkness, and we are arrived at facts admitted by both 
parties." 



EXERCISE ON CHAPTER IV. 

The examples in this exercise are designed to illustrate 
the rules and cautions, which are found in the selections »m 
Verbal Criticism, and on Sentences. 

1. You stand to him in the relation of a son; ot consequence yon 
should obey him. 

2. He came toward me, and immediately fell backward. 
3 His sermon was an extempore performance. 

4. It is exceeding dear, and scarce to be obtained. 



EXERCISES. 247 

5 He came afterward and apologized. 

P. He dare net do it at present, and he need not. 

/, Whether he will or no, I care not. 

8. He is vindictive in his disposition. 

9. These conditions were accepted of by the conquerors. 

10. I have followed the habit of rising early in the morning till it 
as become a custom with me. 

11. You have not money responsible to your views. 

12. They hold their own fortunes synonymous with those of then 
jountry. 

13. Though some men reach the regions of wisdom by this path, it 
>s not the most patent route. 

14. He succeeded by dint of application, though he is not now a 
jvhit better. 

15. He was engaged in the duties of his avocation. 

16. It was impossible not to suspect the veracity of h -, s story. 

17. The conscience of approving one's self a benefactor to mankind, 
s the best recompense for being so. 

18. The servant must have an undeniable character. 

19. The calamities of children are due to the negligence ot pa- 
rents. 

20. There soon appeared very apparent reasons for his partiality 

21. No man had ever I*»«s friends and more enemies. 

22. The reason will b« accounted for hereafter. 

23. They wrecked tbe'> vengeance on all concerned. 

24. I expect he ww thr man you saw. 

25. The church wv p^wed after the old fashion. 

26. I will have mercy > and not sacrifice. 

27. We do those things frequently, that we repent oi afterwards. 

28. It would appear, that for the cause of liberty, though paradoxi- 
cal, neither hopes nor fears can be too sanguine. 

29. A clergyman is by the militia act exempted from both serving 
and contributing. 

30. How few there a*^ at the present day, who are willing to 
make any sacrifice of th/P* feelings or property for the public good. 
When by so doing thef might ultimately benefit themselves and 
society 

31. I have settled the meaning of those pleasures of imagination, 
tfhich are the subject of my present undertaking, by way of intro- 
duction, in this paper. 

32 As» ;t is necessary to have the head clear as well as the com- 



248 EXERCISES. 



plexion, to be perfect in this part of learning, I rarely mingle with the 
men, but frequently the tea-tables of the ladies. 

33. Many act so directly contrary to this method, that from a habi* 
of saving time and paper, which they acquired at the university, they 
write in so diminutive a manner, that they can hardly read what thev 
have written. 

34. Dr. Prideaux used to relate, that when he brought the copy of 
his "Connexion of the Old and New Testaments" to the bookseller, 
he told him it was a dry subject, and the printing could not be safely 
ventured upon unless he could enliven the work with a little humor. 

From the following example, the student may learn in 
what manner long and involved sentences may be broken up 
and made more plain, and also that the same ideas may be 
expressed in different forms, as the occasion may require. 

" Since it is better to enter on the unaccustomed scenes of the worla 
with that sorrow and dejection, which will make us heedful to our 
ways, rather than with an elation and giddiness which is careless of 
the present, and looks not to that which is to come, it is well that the 
breaking up of the attachments of our youth should for a time give us 
pain, and that thus we should be warned to prepare ourselves for the 
pursuits of life in such a manner, that we may obtain to ourselves other 
sources of happiness, which shall recompense us in a degree for tnose 
which are lost." 

This sentence is long and involved. It may be improved 
by breaking it up into distinct sentences, and still further by 
changing the arrangement of its different clauses. I shall 
first divide it into several sentences. 

" It is better for us to enter on the unaccustomed scenes of the 
world with that sorrow and dejection, which will make us heedful tc 
our ways, rather than with an elation and giddiness, which is carek*sa 
of the present, and looks not at that which is to come. Hence it is 
well, perhaps, that we are subjected to that pain, which attends the 
breaking up of the attachments of youth. We are thus warned t' 
prepare ourselves for the pursuits of life. We are thus taught t«t 
obtain for ourselves other sources of happiness, which mav recom 
pense us for those which are lost." 



EXERCISES. 



249 



The sentence may assume another form by changing the 
order of its members. 

"It is well perhaps that the breaking up of the attachments of 
youth should for a time give us pain. We then enter on the unac- 
customed scenes of the world with that sorrow and dejection, which 
will make us heedful to our ways, instead of an elation and giddiness, 
which is careless of the present, and looks not at that which is to 
come. We are warned to prepare ourselves for the pursuits of life 
in such a manner, as that we may obtain to ourselves other source* 
of happiness, which shall recompense us in a degree for those which 
are lost." 

The sentence may assume another form, should the occa- 
sion and nature of the performance, in which it is found, 
require it. 

" The breaking up of the attachments of youth gives us pain. This 
is well. We are warned to prepare ourselves for the pursuits of life. 
We are incited to obtain for ourselves other and different sources of 
happiness. Who would enter on the unaccustomed scenes of life with 
an elation and giddiness careless of the present and of the future? 
Better is it that we be familiar with sorrow and dejection, and thus 
take heed to our ways." 






EXERCISE ON CHAPTER V. 

The examples in this Exercise are particularly designed 
to lead the student to notice the characteristic traits of dif- 
ferent styles; and have been selected with reference to 
what is said on this subject in the chapter on style. They 
are arranged miscellaneously, and without naming the au- 
thors, that the examination may call into exercise the knowl- 
edge and skill of the student 



250 EXERCISES. 



Example. 1. "From him also was derived the wonderful workman- 
ship of our frames — the eye, in whose orb of beauty is pencilled the 
whole orbs of heaven and of earth, for the mind to peruse and know, 
and possess and rejoice over, even as if the whole universe were her 
own — the ear, in whose vocal chamber are entertained harmonious 
numbers, the melody of rejoicing nature, the welcomes and the saluta- 
tions of friends, the whisperings of love, the voices of parents and 
of children, with all the sweetness and the power that dwell upon 
the tongue of man. His also is the gift of the beating heart, flooding 
all the hidden recesses of the human frame with the tide of !?fe— -his 
the cunning of the hand, whose workmanship turns rude and raw 
materials to such pleasant forms and wholesome uses — his the whole 
vital frame of man, which is a world of wonders within itself, a world 
of bounty, and, if rightly used, a world of the finest enjoyments. — 
His also are the mysteries of the soul within — the judgment, which 
weighs in a balance all contending thoughts, extracting order from 
confusion; the memory, recorder of the soul, in whose books are 
chronicled the accidents of the changing world, and the fluctuating 
moods of the mind itself; fancy, the eye of the soul, which scales 
the heavens and circles round the verge and circuits of" all possible 
existence ; hope, the purveyor of happiness, which peoples the hidden 
future with brighter forms and happier accidents than ever possessed 
the present, offering to the soul the foretaste of every joy, whose full 
bosom can cherish a thousand objects without being impoverished, 
but rather replenished, a storehouse inexhaustible towards the 
brotherhood and sisterhood of this earth, as the storehouse of God is 
inexhaustible to the universal world; and conscience, the arbitrator of 
the soul, and the touchstone of the evil and the good, whose voice 
svithin our breast is the echo of the voice of God. 

" These, all these, whose varied action and movement constitute the 
maze of thought, the mystery of life, the continuous chain of being — 
God hath given us to know that we hold of his hand, ana during his 
pleasure, and out of the fulness of his care." 

Example 2. "One great cause of our insensibility to the goodness 
Lf the Creator is the very extensiveness of his bounty. We prize but 
little what we share only in common with the rest, or with the gen 
erality of our species. When we hear of blessings, we think forthwith 
of successes, of prosperous fortunes, of honors, riches, preferments 
i. e. of those advantages and superiorities over others, which we hap- 
pen either to possess, or to be in pursuit of, or to covet. The com- 
mon benefits of our nature entirely escape us. Yet these are the 



EXERCISES. 251 



great things. These constitute, what most properly ought to be ac- 
counted blessings of Providence ; what alone, if we might so speak, 
are worthy of its care. Nightly rest and daily bread, the ordinary 
use of our limbs, and senses, and understandings, are gifts which 
admit of no comparison with any other. Yet, because almost every 
man we meet with, possesses these, we leave them out of our enu- 
meration. They raise no sentiment, they move no gratitude : Now, 
herein is our judgment perverted by our selfishness. A blessing 
ought in truth to be the more satisfactory, the bounty at least of the 
donor is rendered more conspicuous, by its very diffusion, its com- 
monness , by its falling to the lot, and forming the happiness of the 
great bulk and body of our species, as well as of ourselves. Nay, 
even when we do not possess it, ought to be matter of thankfulness, 
that others do. But we have a different way of thinking. We court . 
distinction. That I don't quarrel with : but we can see nothing but 
what has distinction to recommend it. This necessarily contracts our 
view of the Creator's beneficence within a narrow compass ; and most 
unjustly. It is in those things which are so common as to be no dis- 
tinctions, that the amplitude of the divine benignity is perceived." 

Example 3. " When public bodies are to be addressed on momen 
tous occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions 
excited, nothing is valuable in speech, further than it is connected 
with high intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force, and 
earnestness, are the qualities which produce conviction. True elo- 
quence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought 
from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in 
vain. Words and phrases may be marshalled in every way, but they 
cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in 
the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of dec- 
lamation, all may aspire after it — they cannot reach it. It comes, 
if it comes at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, 
or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, 
native force. The graces taught in schools, the costly ornaments, 
and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when 
their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their children, and their 
country, hang on the decision of an hour. Then, words have lost 
their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible. 
Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as in the pres- 
ence of higher qualities. Then, patriotism is eloquent; then, self 
de lotion is eloquent. TTie clear conception, outrunning the deduc- 
tion of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, 



252 EXERCISES. 



speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature,, 
and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his object — this, 
this is eloquence ; or rather it is something greater and higher than all 
eloquence, — it is action, noble, sublime, and godlike action." 

Example 4. " Conceive a man to be standing on the margin of this 
green world ; and that, when he looked towards it, he saw abundance 
smiling upon every field, and all the blessings which earth can afford 
scattered in profusion throughout every family, and the light of the 
sun sweetly resting upon all the pleasant habitations, and the joys oi 
human companionship brightening many a happy circle of society, — 
conceive this to be the general character of the scene upon one side 
of the contemplation ; and that on the other, beyond the verge of the 
goodly planet on which he was situated, he could descry nothing but a 
dark and fathomless unknown. 

'' Think you that he would bid a voluntary adieu to all the bright 
ness and all the beauty that were laid before him upon earth, and 
commit himself to the frightful solitude away from it ? Would he 
leave its peopled dwelling-places, and become a solitary wanderer 
through the fields of nonentity ? If space offered him nothing but a 
wilderness, would he for it abandon the homebred scenes of life and 
cheerfulness that lay so near, and exerted such a power of urgency 
to detain him? Would he not cling to the regions of sense, and of 
life, and of society; — and shrinking away from the desolation that was 
beyond it, would he not be glad to keep his firm footing on the territory 
of this world, and to take shelter under the silver canopy that was 
-stretched over it? 

" But if, during the time of his contemplation, some happy island of 
the blessed floated by ; and there had burst upon his senses the light 
of its surpassing glories, and its sounds of sweeter melody ; and be 
clearly saw, that there, a purer beauty rested upon every field, and 
a more heartfelt joy spread itself upon all the families; and he could 
discern there a peace, and a piety, and a benevolence, which put a 
moral gladness into every bosom, and united the whole society in a 
rejoicing sympathy with each other, and with the beneficent Fathei 
of them all ; — could he further see that pain and mortality were there 
unknown ; above all, that signals of welcome were hung out, and 
an avenue of communication was made for him ; — perceive you not 
that what was before the wilderness, would become the land of invi 
tation ; and that now the world would be the wilderness? What 
unpeopled space could not do, can be done by space teeming wit> 



EXERCISES 2&J 

Beatific scenes, and beatific society. And let the existing tendencies 
of the heart be what they may to the scene that is near and \ isibly 
around us, still, if another stood revealed to the prospect of man, eithei 
through the channel of faith, or through the channel of his senses, — 
then, without violence done to the constitution of his moral nature 
may he die unto the present world, and live to the lovelier world thai' 
stands in the distance away from it." 

Example 5. " Such was Napoleon Bonaparte. But, some will say 
he was still a great man. This we mean not to deny. But we would 
have it understood, that there are various kinds or orders of great- 
ness, and that the highest did not belong to Bonaparte. There are 
different orders of greatness. Among these the first rank is unques- 
tionably due to moral greatness, or magnanimity; to that sublime 
energy, by which the soul, smitten with the love of virtue, binds 
itself indissolubly, for life and for death, to truth and duty ; espouses 
as its own the interests of human nature; scorns all meanness and 
defies all peril ; hears in its own conscience a voice louder than 
threatenings and thunders; withstands all the powers of the uni- 
verse, which would sever it from the cause of freedom, virtue, and 
religion; reposes an unfaltering trust in God in the darkest hour, 
and is ever l ready to be offered up ' on the altar of its country or of 
mankind. Of this moral greatness, which throws all other forms of 
greatness into obscurity, we see not a trace or a spark in Napoleon 
Though clothed with the power of a God, the thought of consecra 
ting himself to the introduction of a new and higher era, to the 
exaltation of the character and condition of his race, seems never 
to have dawned on his mind. The spirit of disinterestedness and 
self-sacrifice seems not to have waged a moment's war with self-wil 1 
and ambition. His ruling passions were singularly at variance with 
magnanimity. Moral greatness has too much simplicity, is too un 
ostentatious, too self-subsistent, and enters into others' interests with 
too much heartiness, to live a day for what Napoleon always lived, — 
to make itself the theme, and gaze, and wonder, of a dazzied world. — 
Next to moral comes intellectual greatness, or genius in the highest 
«ensc of that word ; and by this we mean that sublime capacity of 
*hou Tht, through which the soul, smitten with the love of the true 
and tne beautiful, essays to comprehend the universe, soars into the 
Leavens, penetrates the earth, penetrates itself, questions the past, 
mtitipates the future, traces out the general and all-comprehending 
laws of nature, binds together '>y innumerable affinities and relaliong 
22 



254 



EXERCISES. 



all the objec s of its knowledge ; and, not satisfied witn what is finite 
frames to itself ideal excellence, loveliness, and grandeur. This is 
the greatness which belongs to philosophers, inspired poets, and to 
tue master-spirits in the fine arts. — Next comes the greatness ot 
action; and by this we mean the sublime power of conceiving and 
executing bold and extensive plans; constructing and bringing to 
bear on a mighty object a complicated machinery of means, energies 
and arrangements, and accomplishing great outward effects. To thie 
nead belongs the greatness of Bonaparte, and that he possessed it 
we need not prove, and none will be hardy enough to deny. A 
man who raised himself from obscurity to a throne, who changed 
the face of the world, who made himself felt through powerful and 
civilized nations, who sent the terror of his name across seas and 
oceans, whose will was pronounced and feared as destiny, whose 
donatives were crowns, who e antechamber was thronged by sub 
missive princes, who broke down the awful barrier of the Alps and 
made them a highway, and whose fame was spread beyond the 
boundaries of civilization to the steppes of the Cossack and the 
deserts of the Arab; a man who has left this record of himself in 
history, has taken out of our hands the question whether he shall be 
called great. All must concede to him a sublime power of action, an 
energy equal to great effects." 

Example 6. " The taste of the English in the cultivation of the 
land, and in what is called landscape gardening, is unrivalled. They 
have studied Nature intently, and discovered an exquisite sense of her 
beautiful forms and harmonious combinations. Those charms, which 
in other countries she lavishes in wild solitude, aie here assembled 
round the haunts of domestic life. They seem to have caught her 
coy and furtive graces, and spread them, like witchery, about their 
rural abodes. 

" Nothing can be more imposing than the magnificence of English 
park scenery. Vast lawns that extend like sheets of vivid green, 
with here and there clumps of gigantic trees, heaping up rich phes 
of foliage. The solemn pomp of groves and woodland glades, with 
the deer trooping in silent herds across them; the hare, bounding 
away to the covert; or the pheasant, suddenly bursting upon the 
wing. The brook taught to wind in natural meanderings, cr ex 
panded into a glassy lake ; the sequestered pool, reflecting the quiv- 
ering trees, with the yellow leaf sleeping on its bosom, and the trout 
roaming fearlessly about its limpid waters ; while some rustic temple 



EXERCISES. 255 



or sylvan statue , grown green and dark with age, gives an air of 
classic sanctity to the seclusion. 

"These are but a few of the features of park scenery; but what 
most delights me is the creative talent with which the English 
decorate the unostentatious abodes of middle life. The rudest hab- 
itation, the most unpromising and scanty portion of land, m the 
Hands of an Englishman of taste, becomes a little paradise. With 
a nice, discriminating eye, he seizes at once upon its capabilities, and 
pictures in his mind the future landscape. The sterile spot grows 
into loveliness under his hand, and yet the operations of art which 
produce the effect are scarcely to be perceived. The cherishing and 
training of some trees; the cautious pruning of others; the nice dis- 
tribution of flowers and plants of tender and graceful foliage ; the 
introduction of a green slope of velvet turf; the partial opening to a 
peep of blue distance, or silver gleam of water, — all these are managed 
with a delicate tact, a pervading yet quiet assiduity, like the magic 
touchings with which a painter finishes up a favorite picture. 

"To this mingling of cultivated and rustic society may also be at 
tributed the rural feeling that runs through British literature ; the 
frequent use of illustrations from rural life, those incomparable de- 
scriptions of nature, that abound in the British poets — that have con- 
tinued down from the ' Flower and Leaf of Chaucer, and have 
brought into our closets all the freshness and fragrance of the dewy 
landscape. The pastoral writers of other countries appear as if they 
had paid nature an occasional visit, and become acquainted with hey 
general charms; but the British poets have lived and revelled with 
her — they have wooed her in her most secret haunts — they have 
watched her minute caprices. A spray could not tremble in the 
breeze — a leaf could not rustle to the ground — a diamond drop could 
not patter in the stream — a fragrance could not exhale from the hum- 
ble violet, nor a daisy unfold its crimson tints to the morning, but it 
has been noticed by these impassioned and delicate observers, and 
wrought up into some beautiful morality." 

Example 7. " Every thing looked smiling about us as we embarked. 
The morning was now in its freshness, and the path of the breeze 
might be traced over the lake, wakening up its waters from their 
sleep of the night. The gay golden-winged birds that haunt the 
ishores, were in every direction shining along the lake, while, with 
a graver consciousness of beauty, the swan and pelican were seen 
dressing their white plumage in the mirror of its wave. To add to 



256 



EXERCISES 



the animation of the scene, a sweet tinkling of musical instrurp _,nt«i 
came, at intervals, on the breeze, from boats at a distance, employed 
thus early in pursuing the fish of the waters, that suffered themselves 
to be decoyed into the nets by music. 

"The banks of the canal were then luxuriantly wooded. Under the 
tufts of the light and towering palm were seen the orange and the 
citron, interlacing their boughs,: while, here and there, huge. tama- 
risks thickened the shade, and, at the very edge of the bank, the 
willow of Babylon stood bending its graceful branches into the water. 
Occasionally, out of the depth of these groves, there shone a smah 
ternpie or pleasure house; — while now and then an opening in their 
line of foliage allowed the eye to wander over extensive fields, all 
covered with beds of those pale, sweet roses, for which the district of 
Egypt is so celebrated. The activity of the morning hour was visible 
every where. Flights of doves and lapwings were fluttering among the 
leaves; and the white heron, which had roosted all night in some date- 
tree, now stood sunning its wings on the green bank, or floated, like 
living silver, over the flood. The flowers, too, both of land and of 
water, looked freshly awakened ; — and most of all, the superb lotus, 
which had risen with the sun from the wave, and was now holding up 
her chalice for a full draught of his light. 

" Such were the scenes which now passed before my eyes, and min 
gled with the reveries that floated through my mind, as our boat, with 
its capacious sail, swept over the flood. ****** 

" Meanwhile the sun had reached his meridian. The busy hum of 
the morning had died gradually away, and all around were sleeping in 
the hot stillness of the noon. The Nile goose, folding her splendid 
wings, was lying motionless on the shadow of the sycamores in the 
water. Even the nimble birds upon the banks seemed to move more 
languishing, as the light fell upon their gold and azure hues. Over- 
come as I was with watching, and weary with thought, it was not long 
before I yielded to the becalming influence of the hour. I felt my 
eyes close, and in a few minutes fell into a profound sleep." 

Example 8. " Nearer the houses, we perceive an ample spread of 
branches, not so stately as the oaks, but more amiable for their annufi 
services. A little while ago I beheld them, and all was one beauteous, 
boundless waste of blossoms. The eye marvelled at the very sight, 
and the heart rejoiced in the prospect of autumnal plenty. But 
now the blooming maid is resigned for the useful matron. The 
flower is fallen, and the fruits swell out on every twig. — Breathe 



EXERCISES. 257 



soft, ye winds ! O spare the tender fruitage, ye surly blasts ! Let 
the pear-tree suede her juicy progeny, till they drop into our hands, 
and dissolve in our mouths. Let the plum hang unmolested upon 
her boughs, till she fatten her delicious flesh, and cloud her polished 
skin with blue. And as for apples, that staple commodity of our 
orchards, let no injurious shocks precipitate them immaturely to the 
ground; till revolving suns have tinged them with a ruddy com- 
plexion, and concocted them into an exquisite flavor. Then, whal 
cooious hoards of burnished rinds, and what delightful relishes will 
replenish the store-room! Some, to present us with an early enter- 
tainment, and refresh our palates amidst the sultry heats. Some, 
to borrow ripeness from the falling snows, and carry autumn into 
the depths of winter. Some, to adorn the salver, make a part of the 
dessert, and give an agreeable close to our feasts. Others, to fill our 
vats with a foaming flood, which, mellowed by age, may sparkle in 
the glass, with a liveliness and delicacy little inferior to the blood of 
the grape. 

" If it be pleasing to behold their orderly situation and their modest 
beauties, how much more delightful, to consider the advantages they 
yield ! What a fund of choice accommodation is here ! What a source 
of wholesome dainties ! and all for the enjoyment of man. Why does 
the parsley, with her frizzled locks, shag- the border? or why the 
celery, with her whitening arms, perforate the mold, but to render his 
soups savory ? The asparagus shoots its tapering stems, to offer him 
the first fruits of the season; and the artichoke spreads its turgid top, 
to give him a treat of vegetable marrow. The tendrils of the cu 
cumber creep into the sun, and though basking in its hottest rays, they 
secrete for their master, and barrel up for his use, the most cooling 
juices of the soil. The beans stand firm, like files of embattled troops; 
the peas rest upon their props, like so many companies of invalids ; 
while both replenish their pods with the fatness of the earth, on pur 
pose to pour it on their owner's table. Not one species, among all thiy 
variety of herbs, is a cumberer of the ground." 



Example 9. " And now what shall we say to these things ? Arc 
they the dreams of a fervid imagination, or are they the words of 
truth and soberness? Will our blessings be perpetuated, or shall ours 
be added to the ruined republics that have been ? Are we assembled 
to-day to bestow funeral honors upon departed glory, or with united 
tounsels and hoarts to strengthen the things that remain ? Weak 
22* 



258 EXERCISES. 



indeed must be the faith that wavers now, and sinks amid waves lesi 
rerrific, and prospects more cheering, than any which our father? 
ever saw. Were it dark even as midnight, and did the waves run 
high, and dash loud and angry around us, still our faith would not 
be dismayel; still with our fathers we would believe, ' Qui transtu 
lit sustinet, ' and still would we rejoice in the annunciation of Him 
that sitteth upon the throne, < Behold, I create all things new. Our 
anchor will not fail — our bark will not founder, for the means of 
preservation will be used, and the God of our fathers will make 
them effectual. The memory of our fathers is becoming more pre- 
cious. Their institutions are commanding a higher estimation. Deep 
er convictions are felt of the importance of religion; and more extended 
and vigorous exertions are made to balance the temptations of pros- 
perity by moral power. Christians are ceasing from their jealousies, 
and concentrating their energies. The nation is moved, and beginning 
to enroll itself in various forms of association, for the extension oi 
religion at home and abroad. Philosophers and patriots, statesmen 
and men of wealth, are beginning to feel that it is righteousness 
only which exalteth a nation; and to give to the work of morai 
renovation their arguments, the power of their example, the impulse of 
their charity. And the people, weary of political collision, are disposed 
at length to build again those institutions which, in times of conten- 
tion, they had either neglected or trodden down. Such an array 
of moral influence as is now comprehended in the great plan of 
charitable operations, was never before brought to bear upon the 
nation. It moves onward, attended by fervent supplications, and 
followed by glorious and unceasing effusions of the Holy Spirit. The 
god of this world feels the shock of the onset, and has commenced 
his retreat; and Jesus Christ is pressing onward from conquering to 
conquer ; nor will he turn from his purpose, nor cease from his work, 
imtL he hath made all things new." 

Example 10. "I know not how it happened, but it really seems 
that, whilst his Grace was meditating his well-considered censure 
upon me, he fell into a sort of sleep. Homer nods; and the duke of 
Bedford may dream; and as dreams (even his golden dreams) are 
apt to be ill-pieced and incongruously put together, his Grace pre 
served his idea of reproach to me, but took the subject-matter from 
the crowr-grants to his own family. This is ' the stuff of which 
dreams are made.' In that way of putting things together, h : s Grace 
is perfectly in the right. The grants to the house of Russel were s« 



EXERCISES. 



259 



enormous, as not only to outrage economy, but even to stagger 
credibility. The duke of Bedford is the leviathan among all the 
creatures of the crown. He tumbles about his unwieldy bulk •. he 
plays and frolics in the ocean of royal bounty. Huge as he is s and 
whilst 'he lies floating many a rood,' he is still a creature. His 
ribs, his fins, his whalebone, his blubber, the very spiracles through 
which he spouts a torrent of brine against his origin, and covers me 
all over with the spray, — every thing of him and about him is from 
the throne. Is it for him to question the dispensation of the royal 
favor? * * * * 

" Had it pleased God to continue to me the hope of succession, I 
should have been, according to my mediocrity, and the mediocrity of 
the age I live in, a sort of founder of a family; I should have left a 
son, who, in all the points in which personal merit can be viewed, in 
science, in erudition, in genius, in taste, in honor, in generosity, in 
humanity, in every liberal sentiment, and every liberal accomplish- 
ment, would not have shown himself inferior to the duke of Bediord, 
or to any of those whom he traces in his line. His Grace very soon 
would have wanted all plausibility in his attack upon that provision 
which belonged more to mine than to me. He would soon have 
Bupplied every deficiency, and symmetrized every disproportion. Il 
would not have been for that successor to resort to any stagnant 
wasting reservoir of merit in me, or in my ancestry. He had in 
himself a salient, living spring, of generous and manly action. Every 
day he lived he would have repurchased the bounty of the crown, 
and ten times more, if ten times more he had received. He was made 
a public creature, and had no enjoyment whatever, but in the perform- 
ance of some duty. At this exigent moment, the loss of a finished 
man is not easily supplied. 

" But a Disposer whose power we are little able to resist, and 
whose wisdom it behoves us not at all to dispute, has ordained it 
in another manner, and (whatever my querulous weakness might 
suggest) a far better. The storm has gone over me ; and 1 he like 
one of those old oaks which the late hurricane has scattered about me 
I am stripped of all my honors ; I am torn up by the roots, and lif 
prostrate on the earth . There, and prostrate, I most unfeignedlv 
recognize the divine justice, and in some degree submit to it. But 
whilst . humble myself before God, I do not know that it is forbidden 
10 repji the attacks of unjust and inconsiderate men. The patience 
•>f Job is proverbial. After some of the convulsive struggles of our 
rritable natur ^, he submitted himself, and repented in dust and ashes 



263 EXERCISES. 



Bat even so, I do not find him blamed for reprehending, anc -vni 
a considerable degree of verbal asperity, those ill-natured neigr bors 
of his, who visited his dunghill to read moral, political, and econom- 
ical lectures on his misery. I am alone. I have none to meet my 
enemies in the gate. Indeed, my lord, I greatly deceive myself, ii 
in this hard season I would give a peck of refuse wheat for all that is 
called fame and honor in the world. This is the appetite but of a 
few. It is a luxury ; it is a privilege ; it is an indulgence for those 
who are at their ease. But we are all of us made to shun disgrace 
as we are made to shrink from pain, and poverty, and disease. It is 
an instinct; and under the direction of reason, instinct is always in 
the right. I live in an inverted order. They who should have suc- 
ceeded me have gone before me. They who should have been to me 
as posterity are in the place of ancestors. I owe to the dearest rela- 
tion (which ever must subsist in memory) the act of piety which he 
would have performed to me ; I owe it to him to show that he waa 
not descended, as the duke of Bedford would have it, from an un- 
worthy parent." 

Exam-pie 11. "They stood pretty high upon the side of the glen, 
which had suddenly opened into a sort of amphitheatre to give room 
for a pure and profound lake of a few acres' extent, and a space of 
level ground around it. The banks then arose every where steeply 
and in some places were varied by rocks — in others covered with the 
copse which run up, feathering their sides lightly and irregularly, 
and breaking the uniformity of the green pasture-ground. Beneath, 
the lake discharged itself into the huddling and tumultuous brook, 
which had been their companion since they entered the glen. At 
the point at which it issued from its 'parent lake' stood the ruins 
which they had come to visit. They were not of great extent; but 
the singular beauty, as well as wild, sequestered character of the spot 
on which they were situated, gave them an interest and importance 
superior to that which attaches itself to the architectural remains ot 
greater consequence, but placed near to ordinary houses, and pos- 
sessing less romantic accompaniments. The eastern window of the 
church remained entire, with all its ornaments and tracery work 
and the sides upneld by light flying buttresses, whose airy support, 
detached from the wall against which they were placed, and orna- 
mented with pinnacles and carved work, gave a variety and light- 
ness to the building. The roof and western end of the church were 
completely ruinous, but the latter appeared to have made one side o 



EXERCISES. 261 



» square. :>f which the ruins of the conventual buildings formed 
other two, and the gardens a fourth. The side of these building* 
*ehich overhung the brook, was partly founded on a steep and pre- 
sipitous rock ; for the place had been occasionally turned to military 
purposes, and had been taken, with great slaughter, during Mon- 
trose's wars. The ground formerly occupied by the garden was still 
marked by a few orchard-trees. At a greater distance from tne build- 
ings were detached oaks, and elms, and chestnuts, growing singly, 
which had attained great size. The rest of the space between the 
mins and the hill was close-cropt sward, which the daily pasture cf 
the sheep kept in much finer order than if it had been subjected to 
the scythe and broom. The whole scene had a repose, which was 
still and affecting without being monotonous. The dark, deep basin 
in which the clear blue lake reposed, reflecting the water-lilies which 
grew on its surface, and the trees vnich here and there threw their 
arms from the banks, was finely contrasted with the haste and tu- 
mult of the brook which broke away from the outlet, as if escaping 
from confinement, and hurried down the glen, wheeling down the 
Dase of the rock on which the ruins were situated, and brawling in 
foam and fury with every shelve and stone which obstructed its pas- 
sage. A similar contrast was seen between the level green meadow 
in which the ruins were situated, and the large timber-trees which 
were scattered over it, compared with the precipitous banks which 
arose at a short distance around, partly fringed with light and feath- 
ery underwood, partly rising in steeps clothed with purple heath, 
and partly more abruptly elevated into founts of gray rock, chequer 
ed with lichen, and those hardy plants which find roct in the most 
arid crevices of the crags. 

Example 12. "It is nearly impossible for me to convey to my 
readers- an idea of the 'vernal delight,' felt at this period, by the 
Lay Preacher, far declined in the vale of years. My spectral figure, 
pinched by the rude gripe of January, becomes as thin as that 'dag- 
ger of lath,' employed by the vaunting Falstaff; and my mind, af- 
fected by the universal desolation of winter, is nearly as vacant of 
joy anc bright ideas, as the forest is of leaves, and the grove is of 
*cng. 

" Fortunately for my happiness, this is only periodical spleen 
Though in the bitter months, surveying my extenuated body, I ex. 
tlaim with the melancholy prophet, ' My leanness, my leanness ; woe 
into me ! and though adverting to the state of my mind, I behold it 



262 



EXERCISES. 



'all in a robe of darkest grain,' yet, when Apiil and May reign ia 
sweet vicissitude, I give, like Horace, care to the winds; and perceive 
the whole system excited, by the potent stimulus of sunshine. 

" An ancient bard of the happiest dejeriptive powers, and who 
noted objects, not only with the eye of the poet, but with the accuracy 
of a philosopher, says in a short poem, devoted to the praises oi 
mirth, that 

' Young and old come forth to play, 
On a sunshine holiday.' 

* tn merry spring-time, not only birds, bv^t melancholy c Id fellows 
like myself, sing. The sun is the poet's, the invalid's, anc the hyp- 
ochondriac's friend. Under clement skies, and genial sunshine, 
not only the body is corroborated, but the mind is vivified, and 
the heart becomes ' open as day.' I may be considered fanciful in 
the assertion, but I am positive that many, who, in November 
December, January, February, and March, read nothing but Man- 
deville, Rochefoucault, and Hobbes, and cherish malignant thoughts, 
at the expense of poor human nature, abjure their evil books ana 
sour theories, when a softer season succeeds. I have myself, in win- 
ter, felt hostile to those whom I could smile upon in May, and clasp 
to my bosom in June. Our moral qualities, as well as natural ob- 
jects, are affected by physical laws ; and I can easily conceive that 
oenevolence, no lees than the sun-flower, flourishes and expands 
under the luminary of the day. 

" With unaffected earnestness, I hope that none of my readers will 
look upon the agreeable visitation of the sun, at this beauteous sea- 
son, as the impertinent call of a crabbed monitor, or an importunate 
dun. I hope that none will churlishly tell him ' how they hate his 
beams.' I am credibly informed that several of my city friends, 
many fine ladies, and the worshipful society of loungers, considered 
tne early call of the above red-faced personage, as downright intru- 
sion. It must be confessed that he is fond of prying into chambers 
and closets, but not like a rude searcher, or libertine gallant, for in- 
jurious or licentious purposes. His designs are beneficent, and he is 
one of the warmest friends in the world. 

" Notwithstanding his looks arf sometimes a litt e suspicious, and 
Me presents himself with the fiery eye and flushed cheek of a jollv 
toper, yet this is only a new proof of the fallacy of physiognomy, for 
he is the most regular being in the universe. He keeps admirable 
hours, and is steady, diligent, and punctual to a proverb. Conscious 



EXERCISES. 26H 



af his shining merit, and dazzled by his regal glory, I must rigidlv 
inhibit all from attempting to exclude his person. I caution slug 
gards to abstain from the use of shutters, curtains, and all other vi< 
Janoas modes of insulting my ardent friend. My little garden, my 
only support, and myself, are equally the objects of his care, and 
were it not for the constant loan of his great lamp, I could not 
always see to write." 

Example 13 " There is great equability, and sustained force, in 
every part of his writings. He never exhausts himself in flashes 
and epigram, or languishes into tameness and insipidity ; at first 
sight you would say, that plainness and good sense were the predom 
mating qualities ; but, by the by, this simplicity is enriched with the 
delicate and vivid colors of a fine imagination — the free and forcible 
touches of a powerful intellect — and the lights and shades of an un- 
erring, harmonizing taste. In comparing it with the styles of his 
most celebrated contemporaries, we should say that it was more 
Durely and peculiarly a written style — and therefore rejected those 
ornaments that more properly belong to oratory. 

"It has no impetuosity, hurry, or vehemence; no bursts, or sudden 
turns, or abruptness, like that of Burke; and, though eminently 
smooth and melodious, it is not modulated to a uniform system of 
Folfinn declamation, like that of Johnson, nor spread out in the richer 
and more voluminous elocution of Stewart; nor still less broken into 
that patchwork of scholastic pedantry and conversational smartness 
which has found its admirers in Gibbon. It is a style, in short, of 
great freedom, force, and beauty ; but the deliberate style of a man 
of thought and of learning ; and neither that of a wit, throwing out 
his extempores with an affectation of careless grace — nor a rheto- 
rician, thinking more of his manner than his matter, and determined 
to be admired for his expression, whatever may be the facts of hi9 
sentiments. 

" But we need dwell no longer on qualities that may be gathered 
hereafter from the works he has left behind him. They who lived 
with him mourn the most for those which will be traced in no such 
memorial ; and prize, fa: above these talents which gained him his 
high name in philosophy, that personal character which endeared 
him to his friends, and shed a grace and a dignity over all the so- 
ciety in which he moved. The same admirable taste which is con 
»picuous in his writings, or rather, the higher principles from which 
that taste was but an emanation, spread a similar change over his 



264 EXERCISES. 

whole life and conversation, and gave to the most learned philoso- 
pher of his day the manner and deportment of the most perfect 
gentleman." 

Example 14. "He is fallen! 

"We may now pause before that splendid prodigy, which towered 
amongst us like some ancient ruin, whose frown terrified the glance 
its magnificence attracted. 

" Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne, a sceptred 
hermit, wrapped in the solitude of his own originality. 

"A mind bold, independent, and decisive — a will despotic in his 
dictates — an energy that distanced expedition, and a conscience plia- 
ble to every touch of interest, marked the outline of this extraordi 
nary character — the most extraordinary, perhaps, that, in the annals 
of this world, ever rose, or reigned, or fell. 

" Flung into life in the midst of a Revolution that quickened every 
energy of a people who acknowledged no superior, he commenced 
his course, a stranger by birth, and a scholar by charity ! 

" With no friend but his sword, no fortune but his talents, he rushed 
into the lists where rank, and wealth, and genius had arrayed them- 
selves, and competition fled from him as from the glance of destiny. 
He knew no motive but interest — he acknowledged no criterion but 
success — he worshipped no God but ambition, and with an Eastern 
devotion he knelt at the shrine of his idolatry. Subsidiary to this, 
there was no creed which he did not promulgate ; in the hope of a 
dynasty, he upheld the Crescent ; for the sake of a divorce, he 
sowed before the Cross; the orphan of St. Louis, he became the 
adopted child of the Republic; and with a parricidal ingratitude, 
on the ruins both of the throne and the tribune, he reared the throne 
of his despotism. 

"A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the pope; a pretended pa- 
triot, he impoverished the country ; and in the name of Brutus, he 
grasped without remorse, and wore without shame, the diadem of 
the Caesars. 

" Through this pantomime of his policy, Fortune played the clown 
of his caprices At his touch, crowns crumbled, beggars reigned, 
systems vanished, the wildest theories toek the color of his whim, 
and all that was novel, changed places with the rapidity of a drama. 
Even apparent defeat assumed the appearance of victory — his AigM 
from Egypt confirmed his destiny — ruin itself only elevated him to 
♦mpire. 



EXERCISES. 266 



u 8nt, if his fortune was gre?_t, his genius was transcendent ; de- 
cision flashed upon his counsels ; and it was the same to decide and 
*o perform. To inferior intellects, hi3 combinations appeared per« 
fectly impossible, his plans perfectly impracticable ; but, in his hand, 
simplicity marked theii development, and success vindicated their 
adoption. 

"His person partook the character of his mind; if the one never 
vielded in the cabinet, the other never bent in the field. 

" Nature had no obstacles that he did not surmount, space no opposi 
tion that he did not spurn ; and, whether amid Alpine rocks, Arabian 
sands, or polar snows, he seemed proof against peril, and empowered 
with ubiquity. The whole continent of Europe trembled at beholding 
the audacity of his designs, and the miracle of their execution. Skep- 
ticism bowed to the prodigies of his performance ; romance assumed 
the air of history ; nor was there aught too incredible for belief, or too 
fanciful for expectation, when the world saw a subaltern of Corsica 
waving his imperial flag over her most ancient capitals. All the \ris 
ions of antiquity became common-places in his contemplation ; kings 
were his people ; nations were his outposts ; and he disposed of court*, 
wad crowns, and camps, and churches, and cabinets, as af thfrv irem 
vhe titular dignitanes of the chess boarc." 

m 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION 



ENGLISH STYLE 



In the selection and arrangement of the following e sam 
pies, it is designed to present a brief and connected outline 
of the history of English style. To carry this design into 
full execution, would obviously require far more extended 
limits than those here prescribed. 

Of English Style before the Revival of Letters 

There are few remains of English prose writers prior 10 
the revival of letters, about the middle of the fifteenth cen- 
tury. Of the few productions that belong to early periods 
in English history, most are written either in Saxon or in 
Latin. Indeed, the origin of the English language is dated 
about the commencement of the fourteenth century, Sir John 
Mandeville being the first prose writer in the language 
It is not, then, to be expected, that selections made from wri- 
ters before the middle of the fifteenth century, will be of 
much interest or importance, as specimens of style. In these 
compositions, as in the first efforts of young writers, there is 
no distinctly formed style, — at least, no traits so well defined, 
and so prevalent, as to give a character to the style of the 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 267 

age. Still it will be noticed, that many of the words and 
phrases are idiomatic, and in common use at the present day 

To the student of the English language, however, these 
early writings are highly interesting. He sees, in them, as 
hey become more and more intelligible, and bear a nearer 
resemblance to writings of later periods, the gradual forma- 
tion of the language. He finds, also, an illustration of the 
remark, that the English language is a combination of differ- 
ent languages, or, in other words, that it is the Anglo-Saxon, 
wilh copious additions from the Norman, French, Latin, 
Greek, Italian, and German languages. He is further led 
to notice, that, during the time in which these additions 
and infusions were made, the language is in a transition- 
state, passing from the Anglo-Saxon to the English. Several 
causes conspired, during the fourfpenth century, to bring 
about this change. A few distinguished poets appeared at 
this time, whose writings contributed much to the improve- 
ment of the language. Chaucer and Gower are especially 
worthy to be mentioned, the former having been styled the 
" father of the English language." Many translations were 
also made from the French and other languages; and in this 
way, new words and forms of expression were introduced. 
Trevisa's Translation of the Poly-chronicon, and other trans- 
lations, made and printed by William Caxton, the first Eng- 
lish printer, are examples. Several romances were also, at 
this time, either written originally in English, or translated 
from other languages ; and this species of writing, as it called 
vhe attention of a new class of readers to the literature of 
the times, led to the advancement of the language. Thus 
poetry, history, and romance, in their rude forms, aided by 
the influence of a greater familiarity with foreign languages 
and nations, led to the gridual formation and improvement 
sf native English. 

I have made but three extracts from writers of this period 



268 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 

one from the Travels and Voyages of Sir John Mardeville, 
written about 1370 ; the second, from the Poly-chronicon of 
Trevisa; and the third, from a romance entitled Morte Ar 
thur, translated and published by Caxton, about 1475. 

The following extract from Mandeville, gives us some 
knowledge of the philosophy of his times : — 

" Ye have heard me say that Jerusalem is in the midst of the 
world, and that many men prove and shew there, by a sphere, that 
pighte* in to the earth, upon the hour of mid-day, when it is so equi- 
noctial, that sheweth no shadow on no side. And that it should be 
m the midst of the world, David witnesseth in the Psalter, where 
he saith, Deus operatus est salute in medio terrce. Then they that 
part from the parts of the West to go towards Jerusalem, as many 
journies as they go upward for to go thither, in as many journies 
may they go from Jerusalem, unto other confines of the superficiali- 
ty of the earth beyond. And when men go beyond tho t journeys, 
towards Ind, and to the foreign isles, all is euryronyngeX the round- 
ness of the earth and the sea, under cur country on this half. And 
therefore hath it befallen many times of a thing, that I have heard 
counted when I was young; how a worthy man departed sometime 
from our countries, for to go search the world. And so he passed 
Ind, and the isles beyond Ind, where ben mo than 500 isles; and so 
long he went by sea and land, and so environed the world by many 
seasons, that he found an isle, where -he heard speak his own language, 
calling on oxen in the plough such words, as men speak to beasts in 
nis own country ; whereof he had great marvel ; for he knew not how 
it might be. But I say, that he had gone so long by land and by sea, 
that he had environed all the earth, that he has come again environ- 
ing, that it is to say, going about unto his own marches, if he would 
have passed forth, till he had found his country and his own knowl- 
edge. But he turned again from thence from whence he was come 
fro ; and so he lost much painful labor, as himself said, a great while 
after, that he was come home. But how it seemeth to simple men un- 
learned, that men ne may go under the earth, and also that men should 
fall toward the heaven from under. But that may not be, unless tha* 
we may fall toward heaven from the earlh, where we be. Foi 

* fixed. f these % passing round 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 



2(39 



from what part of the earth, v here men dwell, either abcve or be- 
neath, it seemeth alway to them that dwell, that they go more right 
than any other folk. And right as it seemeth to us, that they are 
under us, right so it seemeth to them that we be under them. For 
.f a man might fall from the earth into the firmament, by greater 
reason the earth and the sea, that ben so heavy, should fall to the 
firmament ; but that may not be ; and therefore saith our Lord God, 
Non timeus mei qui suspendi terram ex nihilo. 



The following passage from Trevisa relates to the differ- 
ent languages of the inhabitants of Britain : — 

" As it is knowen how many manner people ben in this island 
there ben also many languages JYetkeless, Welshmen, and Scots that 
ben not medled* with other nations, keep nigh yet their first language 
and speech ; but yet tho Scots that were sometime confederate, and 
dwelt with Picts, draw somewhat after their speech. But the Fiem- 
mings that dwell in the west side of Wales, have left their strange 
speech, and speaken like the Saxons. Also, Englishmen, tho they 
had from the beginning three manner speeches, southern, northern, 
and middle speech, in the middle of the land, as they come of three 
manner people of Germania, netheless by commixyoni and medlingl 
first with Danes, and afterwards with Normans, in many things 
the country language is appayred.\ This appayring of the lan- 
guage cometh of two things; one is by cause that children that go 
to school, learn to speak first the English, and then ben compelled 
to construe their lessons in French ; and that hath ben used syn 
the Normans came into England. Also gentlemen's children ben 
[earned from their youth to speak French; and uplandish men will 
counterfeit and liken themselves unto gentlemen, and are besy \\ to 
Bpeak French, for to be more set by. Wherefore, it is said by a 
common proverb, "Jack would be a gentleman if he could meak 
French." 



The following passage from Morte Arthur has been often, 
quoted, as the perfect character of a knight-errant : — 

* mixed. f commixture J mingling. § inspired. || busy 

23* 



270 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 



" And now I dare say, that Sir Lancelot, there thou liest thai 
were never matched of none earthly knights hands. And thou were 
the curtiest knight that ever bare shield. And thou were the truest 
friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse ; and thou were the truest 
iover of a sinful man, that ever loved woman. And thou were the 
kindest man that ever stroke with sword. And thou were the 
goodliest person that ever came among prece* of knights. And thou 
were the meekest man, and the gentlest, that ever ate in hall anions 
ladies. And thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that 
ever put spear hi rest." 



From the Revival of Letters to the Reign of Elizabeth. 

Several causes conspired, during this period, to the progress 
of society, and the advancement of English literature. The 
zeal with which the study of the Latin and Greek classics 
was pursued, led to a familiarity with these models of good 
taste, which could not fail to enrich and ameliorate the lan- 
guage, and improve the style. It was also the era of the 
Reformation — a time of great intellectual activity and power, 
and when writers, deeply interested in the subjects which 
they discussed, wrote with directness and simplicity. There 
appeared, also, in connexion with these great events, several 
individuals of learning and of superior minds, who thought 
with clearness and power. Such men were Sir Thomas 
More, Bishop Latimer, Sir John Cheke, and Bishop Fisher, 
It should be further mentioned, that the translation of the 
Bible, made, during this period, by Tyndale and Coverdale, 
especially the latter, which bears a near resemblance to that 
now in use, contributed much to the permanency of the lan- 
guage, and the simplicity of style. 

From these, and, perhaps, other causes, there are found, 
partially developed, some of the more valuable traits of style 
There is a degree of simplicity, stre/igth, and directness 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 271 

which not only makes the writings of this period intelligible, 
but renders them grateful to the taste of even the present age. 
Still these excellencies are found united with many striking 
defects ; and, looking at them as connected with the history 
of English style, they are rather to be regarded as favorable 
indications, than as established traits of style. 

Sir Thomas More, who was a strenuous Papist, thus dis- 
courses on the writings of Luther : — 

" But the very cause why his books be not suffered to be read is, 
because his heresies be so many and so abominable, and the proofs 
wherewith he pretended to make them probable, be so far from 
reason and truth, and so far against the right understanding of holy 
Scripture, whereof, under color of great zeal and affection, he labor- 
eth to destroy the credence and good use, and finally so far stretch- 
eth all things against good manner and virtue, provoking the world 
to wrong opinions of God, and boldness in sin and wretchedness, 
that there can be no good, but much harm, grow by the reading 
For if there were the substance good, and of error and oversight 
some cockle among the corn, which might be sifted out, and the 
remnant stand instead, men would have been content therewith, 
as they be with such other. But now is his not besprent with a 
few spots, but with more than half venom poisoned the whole wine, 
and that right rotten of itself. And this done of purpose and mal- 
ice, not without an evil spirit in such wise walking with his words, 
that the contagion thereof were likely to infect a feeble soul, as the 
savor of a sickness sore infecteth a whole body. Nor the truth is 
not to be learned of every man's mouth ; for as Christ was not con- 
tent that the devil should call him God's son, though it were true, so 
is he not content a devil's limb, as Luther is, or Tyndale, should 
teach his flock the truth, for infecting them with their false devilish 
heresies besides." 

From the sermons of Bishop Latimer much might be ex- 
tracted to interest and amuse. The following passage is an 
example of his peculiar manner of writing : — 

" We be many preachers here in England, and we preach many 
'ons sermons, yet the people will not repent nor convert. This v at 



272 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION 

— — _ 

the fruit, the effect, and the good, that Jonas's sermon did, that aK 
*he whole city at his preaching converted, and amended their evL 
loose living, and did penance in sackcloth. And yet heie in this 
sermon of Jonas is no great curiousness, no great clerkliness, no great 
affectation of words, nor painted eloquence ; it was none other but 
adhuc quadraginta dies et JYineve subvertetur ; Yet forty days, JYineve 
subvertetur, and Ninevy shall be destroyed; it was no more. This 
was no great curious sermon, but it was a nipping sermon, a pinch* 
ing sermon, a biting sermon; it had a full bite, it was a nipping ser- 
mon, a rough sermon, and a sharp biting sermon. Do you not here 
marvel that those Ninevites cast not Jonas in prison, that they "die 
not revile him nor rebuke him? They did not revile him nor rebuke 
him. But God gave them grace to hear him, and to convert and 
amend at his preaching. A strange matter so noble a city to give 
place to one man's sermon. Now, England cannot abide this gear* 
they cannot be content to hear God's minister, and his threatening 
for their sins, though the sermon be never so good, tho it be never so 
true. It is a naughty fellow, a seditious fellow, he maketh trouble 
and rebellion in the realm, he lacketh discretion." 

Little remains to us of the writings of Sir John Cheke 
He is principally known from his zeal in the cause of ancient 
classical learning; and the influence of his familiarity with 
these writers is evidently seen in his style. The following 
passage is from an address to certain seditious persons, who 
disturbed the peace of England in 1549 : — 

" Ye rise for religion. What religion taught you that? If ye were 
offered persecution for religion, ye ought to flee. So Christ teach- 
eth you, and yet you intend to fight. If you would stand in the truth 
ye ought to suffer like martyrs, and ye would slay like tyrants. Thus 
for religion, ye keep no religion, and neither will follow the council 
of Christ, nor the constancy of martyrs. Why rise ye for religion? 
Have ye any thing contrary to God's book? Yea, have ye not all 
things agreeable to God's word ? But the new (religion) is different 
from the old ; and therefore ye will have the old. If ye measure 
the old by truth, ye have the oldest. If ye measure the old by fancy. 
then it is hard, because men's fancies change, to give that is old 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 273 

Ye will have the old sty] 3. Will ye have any older than that as 
Chiist left, and his apostles taught, and the first church did user Ye 
will have that the canons do establish. Why, that is a great deal 
younger than that ye have of latter time, and newlier invented; yet 
that is it that ye desire. And do ye prefer the bishops of Rome afore 
Christ? Men's inventions afore God's law? The newer sort of 
worship before the older ? Ye seek no religion ; ye be deceived ; ye 
Beek traditions. They that teach you, blind you, that so instruct 
you, deceive you. Jf ye seek what the old doctors say, yet look what 
Christ, the oldest of all; saith. For he saith, < Before Abram was 
made I am.' If ye seek the truest way, he is the very truth. If ye 
seek the readiest way, he is the very way. If ye seek everlasting 
life, he is tne very life. What religion would ye have other now 
than his religion ? You would have the Bibles in again. It is no 
mervail, your blind guides should lead you blind still. 

"But why should ye not like that (religion) which God's word es- 
tablished, the primitive church hath authorized, the greatest learn- 
ed men of this realm have drawn, the whole consent of the parliament 
hath confirmed, the king's majesty hath set forth? Is it not truly 
set out? Can ye devise any truer than Christ's apostles used? Ye 
think it is not learnedly done. Dare ye, commons, take upon you 
•aiore learning than the chosen bishops and clerks of this realm 
have ? 

" Learn, learn to know this one point of religion, that God will be 
worshipped as he hath prescribed, and not as we have devised. And 
that his will is wholly in the Scriptures, which be full of God's Spirit, 
and profitable to teach the truth." 



Reign of Elizabeth 

In directing our attention to English literature, during the 
reign of Elizabeth, we see moie fully displayed the effects of 
those causes, which, as connected with the Revival of Letters 
and the Reformation, were in operation during the reigns of 
her immediate predecessors. Writers now appear, whose 
style is more distinctly marked, and whose works are more 
valuable. Still it must be acknowledged, that the literature 
of this period is not characterized by any well-defined and! 



274 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 

pervading traits of style. There is no standard to which 
the literary taste of the age is conformed. Each individual 
author, of intellectual power, writes in accordance with his 
own taste ; and his influence is felt, in a greater or less degree, 
by the literature of the times. In noticing, therefore, the 
style of this reign, the attention will be directed to individual 
writers. 

The first and second extracts are from the " Rhetoric " of 
Thomas Wilson, and the " Schoolmaster" of Roger Ascham. 
I have been induced to insert them, rather from the informa- 
tion they give us of prevailing notions respecting language 
and criticism, than from any marked peculiarity in the style 
Still it may be noticed, that there is a good degree of perspi- 
cuity and vivacity of expression. Wilson came into notice 
in the preceding reign : his work, from which the following 
extract is made, is the first regular treatise on Rhetoric in the 
English language, and was deservedly, for many years, in high 
repute. Roger Ascham is well known as ihe tutor of Eliza- 
beth. Both these individuals contributed much by their pre- 
cepts, and their zeal for good learning, to the advancement of 
English language and literature. 

Wilson, treating on plainness of style, has the following 
:just remarks : — 

"Among other lessons, this should be first learned, that we never 
affect any strange inkhorn terms, but to speak as is commonly re- 
ceived; neither seeking to be over-fine , nor yet living over-careless 
using om speech as most men do, and ordering our wits as the few- 
est have done. Some seek so far for outlandish English, that they 
furget altogether their mother's language. And I dare affirm this, 
if some of their mothers were alive, they were not able to tell 
what they say : and yet these fine English Clerks will say *hat they 
speak in their mother tongue, if a man should charge them with 
counterfeiting the King's English. Some far journied gentlemen, 
at their return home, lit e as they love to go in foreign apparel, so 
ihey will powder their tak with over-sea language. He that comet v 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 275 

lately out of France, will talk French-English, and never blush at 
the matter. Another chops in with English Italianated, and appli- 
eth the Italian phrase to our English speaking: the which is, as if 
an orator that professeth to utter his mind in plain Latin would needs 
speak poetry, and far-fetched colors of strange antiquity. The law- 
yer will store his stomach with the prating of pedlers. The fine 
courtier will talk nothing but Chaucer. The mystical wise men and 
poetical clerks will speak nothing but quaint proverbs and blind alle- 
gories; delighting much in their own darkness, especially when 
none can tell what they do say. The unlearned or foolish fantasti- 
cal, that smells but of learning, (such fellows as have seen learned 
men in their day,) will so Latin their tongues, that the simple can 
not but wonder at their talk, and think surely that they speak by 
some revelation. I know them that think rhetoric to stand wholly 
upon dark words; and that he who can catch an inkhorn term by 
the tail, him they count to be a fine Englishman and a good rhetori 



Ascham, in his " Schoolmaster," thus remarks on the m 
fluence of Italian manners and books : — 



" If some do not understand what is an Englishman Italianated, 1 
will plainly tell him. He that by living and travelling in Italy, 
bringeth home into England, out of Italy, the religion, the learning, 
the policy, the experience, the manners of Italy. That is to say, foi 
religion, papistry, or worse ; for learning, less commonly than they 
carried out with them; for policy, a factious heart, a discoursing 
head, a mind to meddle in all men's matters; for experience, plenty of 
new mischief never known in England before ; for manners, variety 
of vanities, and change of filthy lying. 

" These be the enchantments of Circe, brought out of Italy to mar 
men's manners in England ; much by example of ill life, but more 
by precepts of fond books, of late translated out of Italian into Eng 
lish, sold in every shop in London; commended by honest titles the 
sooner to conupt honest manners; dedicated over boldly to virtuous 
and honorable personages, the easilier to beguile simple and innocent 
trits It is pity that those who have authority and charge to allow 
and d'.sallow books to be printed, be no more circumspect herein 
Jian they are. Ten sermons at Paul's cross do not so much good 
for moving men to true doctrine, as one of those bocks do harm, 



276 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 



with enticing men to ill-living. Yea, I say further, those books ck 
not so mucn to corrupt honest living, as they do to sibvert true reh 
gion. More papists be made by your merry books oi Italy, than bv 
your earnest books of Lourain." 

The Arcadia of Sir Philip Sidney was written about 1580. 
Regarding the time in which it was produced, it must be 
pronounced a work of uncommon merit — the product of a 
mind in advance of its age in elegant attainments and intel- 
lectual polish. To the reader of the present day, its faults 
are obvious. There is a looseness in the sentences, and a 
puerility in the thoughts, which belong to the childhood of 
literature. Yet with these faults is united much to interest 
and to please : a play of fancy, a sportiveness and sprightli- 
ness of thought, which offer a grateful relaxation to the mind. 
Something of his manner may be learned from the following 
specimen : — 

" The third day after, in the time that the morning did strew rosea 
and violets in the heavenly floor against the coming of the sun, the 
nightingales (striving one with the other, which could in most dain 
ty variety recount their wrong caused sorrow) made them put off 
their sleep, and rising from under a tree (which that night had beer 
their pavilion) they went on their journey, which by and by wel 
corned Musadora's eyes (wearied with the wasted soil of Laconia 
with delightful prospects. There were hills which garnished thei 
proud heights with stately trees; humble vallies whose low es 
tate seemed comforted with the refreshing of silver rivers, meadowi 
enamelled with all sorts of eye-pleasing flowers; thickets, whic, 
being lined with most pleasant shades were witnessed so too, by th » 
cheerful disposition of man}' well-tuned birds ; each pasture stored 
with sheep feeding with sober security, while the pretty lambs with 
bleating oratory craved the dam's comfort. Here a shepherd's boy 
piping as though he should never be old ; there a young shepherded 
knitting, and withal singing, and it seemed that her voice comforted 
her hands to work, and her hands kept time to her voice-music. As 
for the houses of the country (for many houses came under their eye) 
*hey were all scattered, no two being one by the othe and 7et no' 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 277 

so far off, as that it barred mutual succor ; a show, as it were, of an 
accompaniable solitariness ; and of a civil wilderness." 

Sir Walter Raleigh, following the order of time, next of- 
fers himself to our notice. In this distinguished individual 
are found united the activity and enterprise of the adven- 
turer and military leader, the practical common sense of the 
statesman and man of business, and the learning of the schol- 
ar. His style has those traits which his pursuits and the 
cast of his mind would lead us to anticipate. It is manly 
and forcible, and to a good degree natural and perspicuous ; 
more like the style of later writers of good repute, than that 
of any of his contemporaries. Indeed, wherein it falls short 
of what in later times is esteemed a good English style, the 
defects are manifestly the faults of the age, above which he 
has partially and not entirely risen. His principal work is 
a History of the World ; but his miscellaneous writings are 
numerous, showing him to have been a man of extensive 
knowledge and uncommon intellectual powers. 

The following extract is from a work entitled the " Cabinet 
Council." It shows us the free use of classical authorities 
which at this period began to prevail. 

"All virtues be required in a prince; but justice and clemency 
are most necessary; for justice is a habit of doing things as justly as 
well to himself as to others, and giving to every one so much as to 
him appertaineth. This is that virtue which preserveth concord among 
men, and whereof they be called good. Jus et cequitas vinculo, civita- 
tum. Cic. 

" It is the quality of this virtue also to proceed equally and tem- 
perately. It informeth the prince not to surcharge the subject with 
infinite laws, for therefore proceedeth the impoverishment of the 
subjects and the enriching of lawyers, a kind of men, which in ages 
more ancient, did seem of no necessity. Sine causidicis satis felicis, 
olim fuere futurceque sunt urbes. Sal. 

"The next virtue required in princes is clemency, being an in- 
24 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 



clmaiion of the mind to lenity and compassion, yet tempered with 
severity and judgment. This quality is fit for all great personages 
out chiefly princes, because their occasion to use it is most. ISy it 
also the love of men is gained Qui vult regnare, languida rcgna 
manu. Sen. 

" Alter clemency, fidelity is expected in all good princes, which 
is a certain performance and observation of word and promise. Thia 
virtue seemeth to accompany justice, or is, as it were, the same ; 
and therefore most fit for princes. Sanctis simum generis humani bo- 
num. Liv. 

" As fidelity followeth justice, so doth modesty accompany clem- 
ency. Modesty is a temperature of reason, whereby the mind of 
man is so governed, as neither in action or opinion, he overdeemeth 
of himself, or of any thing that is his — a quality not common in for- 
tunate folk, and most rare in princes. Superbia commune nobilitat's 
malum. Sal. 

" This virtue doth also moderate all external demonstrations of 
insolence, pride, arid arrogance, and therefore necessary to be known 
of princes, and other, whom fortune or favor hath advanced. Im 
pone felicitate tucE fr&nos, facilius illam reges." Curt. 



John Lilly, a poet and romance writer, was esteemed m 
his day an unparalleled wit and scholar, " the darling of the 
Muses." His manner of writing, which is in a high degree 
affected, full of antithesis and quaint sayings, recommended 
him to the fashionables of his age. He was a favorite at 
court, " was heard, graced, and rewarded by Elizabeth ' 
Such indeed was his celebrity, that a manner of writing and 
speaking in imitation of his style, was called Euphuism, 
from the name of his most popular romance. I have thought 
him worthy of mention, since his celebrity, though short- 
lived, must have given his writings some influence on Eng- 
lish style. 

The following extract is from the romance before men* 
tioned. Euphues had inveighed against woman to his friend v 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION 279 

PLilautus; afterwards he became enamored of English 
beauties, and is thus reproached by Philautus : — 



" Stay, Euphues, I can level at the thoughts of thy heart by the 
tvords of thy mouth ; for that commonly the tongue uttereth the 
mind, and outward speech betrayeth the inward spirit. For as a 
good root is known by a fair blossom, so is the substance of the heart 
noted by the shew of the countenance. I can see day at a little hole; 
thou must Halt cunningly if thou beguile a cripple ; but I cannot 
choose but laugh when I see thee play with the bait, that I fear thou 
hast swallowed, thinking with a mist to make my sight blind, be- 
cause I should not perceive thy eyes bleared. 

" A burnt child dreadeth the fire ; he that stumbleth twice at one 
stone is worthy to break his shins ; thou mayest happily forswear 
thyself, but *hou shalt never delude me ; 1 know thee now as readily 
by thy vizwrd as by thy visage ; it is a blind goose that knoweth 
not a fox from a fern L'ush, and a foolish fellow that cannot discern 
craft from conscience, beii g once cozened. But why should I lament 
thy follies with grief, wheu thou seemest to color them with de- 
ceit ? Ah, Euphues, I love thee well, but thou hatest thyself, and 
seekest to heap more harms on thy head by a little wit, than thou 
shalt ever claw off by thy great wisdom. All fiie is not quenched 
by water ; thou hast not love in a string ; affection is not thy slave 
jhou canst not leave when thou listest. With what face, Euphues, 
canst thou return to thy vomit, seeming with the greedy hound to 
lap up that which thou didst cast up ? I am ashamed to rehearse the 
terms that" once thou didst utter of malice against women, and art 
thou not ashamed, now again, to recant them ? They must needs 
ihink thee either envious upon small occasion, or amorous upon a 
light cause ; and then will they be all as ready to hate thee for thy 
•spite, as to laugh at thee for thy looseness. 

" No, Euphues, so deep a wound cannot be healed with so light a 
olaster ; thou mayest by art recover the skin, but thou car t st never 
cover the scar ; thou mayest flatter with fools because thou art wise, 
Dut the wise will ever mark thee for a fool." 

During the reign of Elizabeth appeared several distin- 
guished antiquarians and historians. Those writings of this 
class which acquired the greatest celebrity, and which still 
remain to us, are HoUnshed's Chronicles, Stow's Survey of 



280 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 

London, and Camden's Britannia. These works discjvt 
great industry and research, and are the sources from whici 
modern historians have largely drawn. 

The only extract I shall make, is from Holinshed's Chron- 
icles, a digression on the use of Venetian glasses. 

"It is a world to see in these our days, wherein gold and silver 
most aboundeth, that our gentility, as lothing those metals, (because 
of the plenty,) do now generally choose rather the Venice glasses 
both for our wine and beer, than any of those metals or stone where 
in before time we have been accustomed to drink ; but such is the 
nature of man generally, that it most coveteth things difficult to be 
attained ; and such is the estimation of this stuff, that many become 
rich only with their new trade unto Murana, (a town near to Venice 
situate on the Adriatic sea,) from whence the very best are daily tu 
be had, and such as for beauty do well near match the crystal or the 
ancient Murrhina zasa, whereof now no man hath knowledge. And 
as this is seen in the gentility, so in the wealthy commonalty the 
like desire of glass is not neglected, whereby the gain gotten by 
their purchase is much more increased to the benefit of the mer- 
chant. The poorest also will have glass if they may, but sith the 
Venetian is somewhat too dear for them, they content themselves 
with such as are made at home of fern and burnt stone ; but in fine, 
all go one way, that is, to shards at the last ; so that our great ex- 
penses in glasses, (besides that they breed much strife towards those 
who have the charge of them,) are worse ot all bestowed, in mine 
opinion, because their pieces do turn unto no profit. If the phi- 
losopher's stone were once found, and one part hereof mixed with 
forty of molten glass, it would induce such a metallic toughness 
thereunto, that a fall should nothing hurt it in such a manner, yet 
it might peradventure bunch or batter it ; nevertheless that incon- 
venience were quickly tc be redressed by the hammer. ]>ut whithei 
am I slipped ? " 

There yet remains to be mentioned, among the distm 
guished men of his reign, the venerable Hooker. And it is 
pleasing evidence of the advance of the English nation in 
/ntelligence and learning, that a work written with the abil 
ity, the sound thought and extensive knowledge, found in 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION 281 



the Ecclesiastical Polity was rightly appreciated at the time 
of hs publication; while its continued reputation is evidence 
how justly this celebrity was deserved. Perhaps the most 
fit encomium ever passed upon this work, is that of King 
James. "In it," says he, "there is no affectation of lan- 
guage: It is a clear, grave, and comprehensive manifestation 
of reason. As a piece of composition, it is injured by the 
aversion of clauses, and the imitation of foreign idioms, 
which cause it to appear rough and unpolished, and at times 
intricate and obscure. But in the midst of these faults are 
found a dignity, and force, and elevation of style, which are 
redeeming excel "ncies. There are also occasional pas- 
sages of striking beauty and sublimity." 

These peculiarities of the style of Hooker may be seen in 
the following passage, in which he speaks of those who 
would disparage the light of reason : — 

" But so it is, the name of the light of reason is made hateful with 
men ; the star of reason and learning, and all other such like helps, 
beginneth no otherwise to be thought of, than if it were an unlucky 
comet ; or as if God had so accursed it, that it should never 
shine, or give light in things concerning our duty in any way to- 
wards him, but be esteemed as that star in the Revelation, called 
Wormwood; which being fallen from Heaven, maketh rivers and 
waters in which it falleth, so bitter, that men tasting them die 
thereof. A number there are, who think that tbev cannot admire 
as they ought, the power and authority of the word of God, if in 
things divine, they should attribute any force to man's reason. For 
which cause they never use reason so willingly as to disgrace 
reason. Their usual and common discourses are to thjs effect. The 
natural man perceiveth not the things of the Spirit of God ; for they 
are foolishness unto him, neither can he know them, because they 
are spiritually discerned. By these and the like dispute*, an opin- 
ion hath s{ read itself very far into the world ; as if the w»y to be ripe 
in faith, were to be raw in wit and judgment ; as if reason were an 
enemy unto religion, child sh simplicity the mother of ghostly and 
i vine wisdom." 

24* 



282 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 



The following passage on death has more of simpliciti 
and smoothness : — 

" Is there any man o worth and virtue, though not instructed in 
the school of Christ, or ever taught what the soundness of religion 
mf aneth, that had not rather end the days of this transitory life, aa 
Cyrus in Xenophon, and in Plato Socrates, are described, than to 
sink down with them, of whom Elihu hath said, momeido moriuntur, 
there is scarce an instant between their nourishing and not being ? 
But let us, who know what it is to die as Absalom or Ananias and 
Sapphira died ; let us beg of God, that when the hour of our rest 
is come, that patterns of our dissolution may be Jacob, Moses, 
Joshua, David, who, leisurely ending their lives in peace, prayed 
for the mercies of God to come upon their posterity ; replenished 
the hearts of those nearest unto them with words of memorable con- 
solation ; strengthened men in the fear of God, gave them whole- 
some instructions of life, and confirmed them in true religion ; in 
sum, taught the world no less virtuously how to die, than they had 
done before how to live." 

If now we look back on the Examples of style during the 
reign of Elizabeth, we see that there is occasion to repeat 
the remark, that English style had not as yet assumed any 
distinct and well-defined character. It is not formed on any 
one model. And when we notice the prevalent faults of the 
best writers of this period, who are characterized either by 
a rambling, forceless manner of expression, or by intricacy, 
harshness, and obscurity, we must be convinced, that it is 
well this is the case. While, then, different writers have each 
contributed something to the advancement of English style, 
there is no one, who could with advantage have been looked 
upon as a standard. 



Reign of James I. 

Most of the writers who flourished during this reign, bear 
a resemblance to each other, not in any common excellen- 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 283 

cies of style, bu. L ^ertain pervading defects. Unnatural 
conceits, antitheses, and false ornaments, are characteristic 
traits. Especially do we find prevalent the absurd custom 
of introducing, on all occasions, Latin quotations, thus often 
expressing common thoughts in an imposing, affected man- 
ner. I propose therefore to make several extracts illustra- 
tive of these peculiarities of style, with slight notices of the 
authors quoted. 

The first extract is from a work, which may well be called 
a literary curiosity, showing the most rare variety and extent 
of literary attainments, and an uncommon, though eccentric 
genius; I may add too, a work, the style of which, though 
strongly marked by some of the faults just mentioned, pos- 
sesses valuable traits. I refer to Burton's Anatomy of Mel- 
ancholy, from which the following extract is made : — 



" Thus much I say of" myself, and that I hope without all suspicion 
of pride or self-conceit; I have lived a silent, solitary, private life, 
miki et muses, in the University, as long almost as Xenocrates in 
Athens, ad senectam fere, to learn wisdom as he did, penned up most 
part in my study. Thirty )*ears I have continued (having the use of 
as good libraries as ever lie had) a scholar, and would be therefore 
loth, either by living as a drone, to be an unprofitable or unworthy 
member of such a society, or to write that which would be any ways 
dishonorable to such a royal and ample foundation. Something I 
have done, though by my profession a divine, yet turbine raptus in- 
genii, as he said, out of a running wit, and inconsistent, unsettled 
mind, I had a great desire (not able to attain to a superficial skill in 
any) to have some smattering in all, to be aliquis in omnibus, nullus 
in singulis; which Plato commends, out of him Lipsius approves, 
and further " as fit to be imprinted in all curious wits, not to be a 
Blave of one science, or dwell together in one subject, as most do, but 
to rove abroad, centum puer artium, to have an Dar in every man's 
boat, to taste of every dish, and to sup of every cup;' which, saith 
Montaigne, was well performed by Aristotle, and his learned coun- 
vvman, Adrian Turnebus. This roving humor (though not with 
'ke success) I have ever had and like a ranging spaniel, that barks 



284 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 

at every bird he sees, leaving his game T \j.ye followed all, saving 
that which I should, and may justly complai 1 and truly jui ubique est, 
which Gestner did in modesty, that I have read many booKs, but to 
little purpose, for want of good method ; I have confusedly turned 
over divers authors in our libraries, with small profit, for want of art, 
order, memory, judgment. And thus amidst the gallantry and mis- 
ery of the world, jollity, pride, perplexities and cares, simplicity and 
villaViy, subtlety, knavery, candor and integrity, mutually mixed and 
offering themselves, I rub on privus privatis ; as I have still lived, 
so I now continue, statu quo priys, left to a solitary life and my own 
discontents ; saving that sometimes, ne quid mentiar, as Diogenes 
went into the city, and Democritus to the haven to see fashions, 1 
did for my recreation now and then walk abroad, look into the world, 
and could not choose but make some little observations non tain sa- 
gax observator, ac simplex recitator, not as they did, to scoff or laugh 
at all, but with a mixt passion : 

Bilem scepe jocum vestri movere tumidtus.'''' 

Strange as it may seem, this quaint, conceited, witty man- 
ner of writing, found its way into the pulpit, and, united with 
the theological quibbling and the metaphysical subtilties oi 
the age, became the prevalent style of preaching. Such a 
preacher was Bishop Andrews, a man of some learning, and 
of high repute with his contemporaries— being styled stella 
predicajitimn. Of the light emitted by this luminary, we 
may judge from the following extract, the subject of which 
is a comparison between men and angels : — 

" What are angels ? Surely they are spirits ; glorious spirits , 
heavenly spirits ; immortal spirits. For their nature or substance, 
spirits ; for their quality or property, glorious; for their place or 
abode, heavenly; for their durance or continuance, immortal. 

And what is the seed of Abraham but as Abraham hi aself ? And 
what is Abraham? Let him answer himself: I am dust and ashes. 
What is the seed of Abraham ? Let one answer in the persons of 
all the rest : dicens putredini, etc., saying to rottenness thou art my 
mother, and to the worms, ye are my brethren. They are spirits . 
now what are we, what is the seed of Abraham ? Flesh. And 
what is the very harvest of this seed of flesh? what lut corruption 
and rottenness, and worms? There is the substance of our bodies 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 285 

They, heavenly spirits, angels of heaven ; that is, their place of abode 
is in heaven above, ours is here below in the dust, inter pulices et 
entices, tineas araneas et vermes; our place is here among fleas and 
flies', moths and spiders, and crawling worms. There is our place 
of dwelling. 

"They, immortal spirits; this is their durance. Our time is pro- 
claimed in the prophet; flesh, all flesh is grass, and the glory of it 
as the flower of the field, (from April to June.) The scythe cometh, 
nay, the wind but bloweth, and we are gone, withering sooner than 
the grass, which is short; nay, fading sooner than the flower of the 
grass, which is much shorter; nay, (saith Job,) rubbed in pieces more 
easily than any moth. 

" This we are to them if you lay us together ; and if you weigh us 
upon a balance, we are altogether lighter than vanity itself; this is 
our weight. And if you value us, man is but a thing of nought; this 
is our worth. Hoc is omnis homo; that is Abraham, and this is 
Abraham's seed ; and who would stand to compare these with angels ? 
Verily, there is no comparison ; they are incomparably far better than 
the best of us." 

Dr. Donne is another preacher, who belongs to the same 
class, but he was a poet as well as a divine, and there is 
evidently more refinement of taste, than in the style of 
Bishop Andrews. 

The following is the introduction to a sermon from the 
text, " For where your treasure is, there will your heart be 
also." 

" I have seen minute glasses ; glasses so short lived. If I were 
to preach upon this text (ichere your treasure is, there will your heart 
bs also) to such a glass, it were enough for half the sermon ; enough 
to show the worldly man his treasures, and the object of his heart, to 
call his eye to that minute glass, and to tell him, there flows, there 
flies your treasure, and your heart with it. But if I had a secular 
glass, a glass that would run an age ; if the two hemispheres of the 
world calcined and burnt to ashes, and all the ashes, and sands, and 
ttoms, of the world put into that glass, it would not be enough to 
tell the godly man what his treasure and the object of his heart is 
K parrot or a staie, docile birds, and of pregnant imitation, will 
Konei be brought to relate to us the wisdom of a council table, than 



'286 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 

any Ambrose, or any Chrysostom, men that have gold and lionet 
in their names, shall tell us what the sweetness, what the treasure 
of heaven is, and what that man's peace, that hath set his heart upon 
that treasure.' 

Another short extract is perhaps a better example of his 
usual mode of writing : — 

"Theudas rose up, dicens se esse aliquem; he said he was some- 
body, and he proved nobody ; Simon Magus rose up, dicens se esst 
aliquem magnum, saying he was some great body; and he proved -as 
little. Christ Jesus rose up, and said himself not to be somebody, 
nor some great body; but that there was nobody else, no other 
name given under heaven, whereby we should be saved, and he was 
believed. And, therefore, if any man think to destroy this general 
by making himself a woful instance to the contrary — Christ is not 
believed in all the world, for I never believed in Christ; so poor 
an objection requires no more answer, but that that will still be true 
in the general ; man is a reasonable creature, though he be an 
unreasonable man." 

Of the few writers of this age, who acquired any celebrity, 
the dramatist, Ben Jonson, may be mentioned. He has left 
but one piece of prose composition',' and this, while it has in 
some degree the peculiarities of his time, has more good 
sense than is found in most of his contemporaries. I have 
selected the following passage because of the subject on 
which it treats: — 

"Language most shews a man; speak, that I may see thee. It 
springs out of the most retired and inmost parts of us, and is the 
image of the parent of it, the mind. No glass renders a man's form 
or likeness so true, as his speech. Nay, it is likened to a man; an* 
as we consider feature and composition in a man, so words in Ian • 
guage ; in the greatness, aptness, sound, structure, and harmony of 
it. Some men are tall and big; so some language is high and 
great. Then the words are chosen, the sound ample, the composi- 
tion full, the absolution plenteous, and poured out, all grace, sinewy 
and strong. Some are little and dwarfs ; so of speech, it is 1 umble 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 28? 

and low; the words poor and flat; the members and periods thir 
and weak, without knitting or number. The middle are of a just 
stature. There the language is plain and pleasing: even without 
stopping, round without swelling; all well turned, composed, ele- 
gant, and accurate. The vicious language is vast and gaping; swell- 
ing and irregular; when it contends, high, full of rock, mountain, 
and pointedness ; as it affects to be low, it is abject and creeps, full 
of bogs and holes. And according to their subject, these styles vary, 
and lose their names; for that which is high and lofty, declaring 
excellent matter, becomes vast and tumorous, speaking of petty 
and inferior things; so that which was even and apt, in a mean 
and plain subject, will appear most poor and humble in a high 
argument. 

"The next thing to the stature, is the figure and feature of lan- 
guage ; that is, whether it be round and straight, which consists of' 
short and succinct periods, numerous and polished, or square and 
firm, which is to have equal and strong parts, every thing answerable, 
and weighed. 

" The third is the skin and coat, which rests in the well joining 
cementing, and coagmentation of words; when as it is smooth, gentle, 
and sweet ; like a table upon which you may run your finger without 
rubs, and your nails cannot find a joint, nor horrid, rough, wrinkled, 
gaping, and chapt; after these, the flesh, blood, and bones come in 
question. We say it is a fleshy style, when there is much periphrasis, 
and circuit of words ; and when with more than enough it grows fai 
and corpulent. It hath blood and juice, when the words are proper 
and apt, their sound sweet, and the phrases neat and picked There 
be some styles again that are bony and sinewy." 



From these writers of vitiated taste, we turn o the 
illustrious Bacon, who is not only to be regarded as an 
ornament of this reign, but of English literature. This is 
not the place to enumerate his various works, or to speak of 
their influence on the advancement of science and good 
learning. We look only at his style. In this, as seen in his 
philosophical works, and in his miscellaneous productions, 
especially in his Essays, there is a striking difference In 
he former, there is evidently an improvement on preceding 



2&S 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 



wi iters. While the style has dignity, elevation, and force, 
and is free from the bad taste of his time, it has less of 
harshness and of that involution of clauses, and consequent 
intricacy, than are found in his immediate predecessors. 
StiK, to modern readers, it often appears rigid and unbar- 
monious. It wants, also, that compactness and strength of 
expression, to which good writers of the present day attain 
But these defects disappear in many of those passages, in 
which the intellectual greatness of the writer, his power of 
thought, and grandeur of conception, are displayed. The 
style of his Essays differs widely. The sentences are short 
and antithetic, and devoid of ease and elegance. They are 
a collection of striking thoughts and wise sayings, set forth 
in sparkling expressions and illustrations. 

The following passage from his Advancement of Learning, 
is an example of Bacon's better style : — 

"But the greatest, error of all the rest, is the mistaking or mis 
placing of the last or farthest end of knowledge, for men have 
entered into a desire of learning and knowledge, sometimes upon a 
natural curiosity, and an inquisitive appetite; sometimes to enter- 
tain their minds with variety and delight; sometimes for ornament 
and reputation ; and sometimes to enable them to victory of wit and 
contradiction; and most times for lucre and profession; and seldom 
sincerely to give a true account of their gift of reason, to the benefit 
and use of men; as if there were sought in knowledge a couch, 
tvhere to rest a searching and restless spirit; or a terras, for a wan- 
dering and variable mind to walk up and down with a fair prospect; 
or a tower of state, for a proud mind to raise itself upon ; or a fort 
or commanding ground for strife or contention ; or a shop for profit 
and sale ; and not a rich storehouse for the glory of the Creator, 
and the relief of man's estate. But this is that which will indeed 
dignify and exalt knowledge, if contemplation and action may be 
more nearly conjoined and united together than they have been* a 
conjunction like unto that of the two highest planets, Saturn, the 
planet of rest and contemplation, and Jupiter, the planet of civil so 
.*ietv and action ; howbeit, I do not mean when I speak of use and 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 289 

action, that end before mentioned of the applying of knowledge to 
lucre and profession ; for 1 am not ignorant how much that diverteth 
and interrupteth the prosecution and advancement of knowledge, like 
unto the golden ball thrown before Atalanta, which, while she goetb 
aside and stoopeth to take up, the race is hindered, 

' Declinant cursus, aurumque volubile toUit.' 

Neitner is my meaning, as was spoken of Socrates, to call philosophy 
down from heaven to converse upon earth ; that is, to leave natural 
philosophy aside, and to apply knowledge only to manners and pol- 
icy. But as both heaven and earth do conspire and contribute to 
lha use and benefit of man, so the end ought to be, from both phi- 
losophic to separate and reject vain speculations, and whatsoever is 
empty and void, and to preserve and augment whatever is solid and 
fruitful." 



Charles L and the Commonwealth. 

This is the age of polemical and political controversy, 
the very foundations of society seemed to be shaken. Or 
rather, it was a period, when men of intellectual energy 
and daring spirits came forth to the work of laying anew, 
and with skill and solidity, these foundations. The first 
principles of morals, of politics, and of ecclesiastical rule, 
were subjected to examination, and the whole era, in church 
and state, is one of revolution. 

As might be expected, these commotions called forth the 
intellectual energies of the most apt minds, and whatever 
was written had a direct bearing on the interests of society. 
Literature became more manly and practical in its character. 
English style also felt most sensibly the change. Not that 
die writers of this period are entirely free from those faults 
which were stated to be characteristic of the last age. There 
are remains of that affectation of manner and quaintness of 
expression, which are indications of a taste wanting chaste- 
tiess and refinement Few also have laid aside the Latin 
25 



290 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 

idioms and forms of construction, and none attain to tha 
unity, and compactness, and easy flow of the sentence, whic 
are found in later writers. 

Of the ecclesiastical writers of this period, two are pa\ 
ticularly conspicuous — Bishops Hall and Taylor. 

Bishop Hall attained some celebrity as a controversia 
writer. He was the antagonist of Milton, and a strenuoui 
supporter of episcopacy. Besides controversial writings, he 
.eft a work entitled " Occasional Meditations," which, from 
some resemblance in the turns of thought and expression to 
the Morals of Seneca, gave him the name of the Christian 
Seneca. — The following Meditation is upon the sight of a 
great Library. 

" What a world of wit is here packed up together ! I know not 
whether this sight doth more dismay or comfort me ; it dismays me 
to think that here is so much that I cannot know ; it comforts me 
to think that this variety yields so good helps to know what I should 
There is no truer word than that of Solomon : — there is no end of 
making many books ; this sight verifies it ; there is no end ; indeed 
it were a pity there should; God hath given to man a busy soul 
the agitation whereof cannot, but through time and experience, 
work out many hidden truths ; to suppress these would be no 
other than injurious to mankind, whose minds, like unto so many 
candles, should be kindled by each other; the thoughts of our de- 
liberation are most accurate ; these we vent into our papers ; what 
a happiness is it, that, without all offence of necromancy, I may 
here call up any of the ancient worthies of learning, whether hu- 
man or divine, and confer with them of all my doubts ! that I can; 
at pleasure summon whole synods of reverend fathers, and acute 
doctors from all the coasts of the earth, to give their well-studied 
judgments in all points of question which I propose ! Neither: 
can I cast my eye casually upon any of these silent masters 
but I must learn somewhat; it is a wantonness to complain of 
choice. 

" No law binds me to read all ; but the more we can take in and 
digest, the better liking must the mind's need be ; blessed be God tba" 
he hath set up so many clear lamps in his church 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 291 

" Now, none but the wilfully blind can plead darkness; and blessed 
be the memory of those his faithful servants, that have left their blood, 
their spirits, their lives in these precious papers; and have willingly 
wasted themselves into these during monuments, to give light unto 
others ' 

The intellectual character of Bishop Taylor adapted him 
to different times fr@m those in which h s lot was cast ; and, 
indeed, it was not till the restoration of Charles II. that he 
can be said to have acquired his celebrity. His distinguish- 
ing trait is the richness of his fancy ; and his intellectual 
attainments are such as are connected with this faculty of 
the mind, and adapted to its display. He was a fine classical 
scholar, familiar with the learning of his times, thus possess- 
ing great resources for illustration, and an uncommon flow 
of language. His sentences, though long and crowded, lux- 
uriantly abounding in ornament, are often well modulated; 
and hence the merit of contributing to the smoothness and 
elegance of English style is ascribed to his writings. 

I have selected, as a specimen of his style, the? well-known 
passage in which he speaks of anger as a hinderance to 
prayer. 

" Frayer is the peace of our spirit, the stillness of our thoughts, 
the evenness of recollection, the seat of meditation, the rest of our 
cares, and the calm of our tempest ; prayer is the issue of a quiet 
mind, of untroubled thoughts ; it is the daughter of charity and the 
sister of meekness; and he that prays to God with an angry, that 
s, with a discomposed spirit, is like him that retires into a battle to 
meditate, and sets up his quarters in the outposts of an army, and 
chooses a frontier garrison to be wise in. Anger is a perfect alien- 
ation of the mind from prayer, and therefore is contrary to that atten 
tion which presents our prayers in a right line to God. For so have 
1 seen a lark rising from his bed of grass, and soaring upwards, 
BingiDT as he rises, and hopes to get to heaven, and climb above the 
clouds; but the poor bird was beaten back with the loud sighings 
of an eastern wind, and his motion made irregular mid inconstant, 



292 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 



descending more at every breath of the tempest, than it could re- 
cover by the libration and frequent weighing of his wings; till the 
little creature was forced to sit down and pant, and stay till the 
storm was over, and then it made a prosperous flight, and did rise 
and sing as if it had learned music and motion from an angel, as he 
passed sometimes through the air about his ministries here below; 
so is the prayer of a good man ; when his affairs have required 
business, and his business was matter of discipline, and his discipline 
was to pass upon a sinning person, or had a design of charity, his 
duty met with the infirmities of a man, and anger was its instru- 
ment, and the instrument became stronger than the prime agent, 
and raised a tempest and overruled the man ; and then his prayer 
was broken, and his thoughts were troubled, and his words went 
up towards a cloud, and his thoughts pulled them back again, and 
made them without intention; and the good man sighs for his in- 
firmity, but must be content to lose the prayer, and he must recover 
it, when his anger is removed, and his spirit is becalmed, made even 
as the brow of Jesus, and smooth like the heart of God; and then it 
ascends to heaven upon the wings of the holy dove, and dwells with 
God, till it returns like the useful bee, loaden with a blessing" and the 
dew of heaven." 

The philosophical writings of this period constitute an 
important part of the literature of the times, and without 
doubt contributed much to the advancement of style. In 
this class Herbert, Hobbs, and Harrington, are most prom- 
inent, especially the philosopher of Malmesbury, who in 
clearness of thought has rarely been surpassed. I have 
room but for a single extract from his Leviathan. Having 
given a description of a commonwealth, he thus discourses 
on the manner of its formation : — 

"The only way to erect such a common power as may be able to 
defend men from the invasion of foreigners, and the injuries of one 
another, and thereby to secure them in such sort, as that by their 
own industry, and by the fruits of the earth, they may nourish them- 
selves and live contentedly, is to confer all their pc wer and strength 
on one man, or upon one assembly of men, that may reduce all theu 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 29^3 



ivills, by plurality of voices, under one will ; which is as much as to 
gay, to appoint one man, or assembly of men ; to bear their person; 
and every one to own and acknowledge himself to be author of 
whatsoever he that so beareth their person shall act, or cause to be 
acted, in those things which concern the common peace and safety; 
and therein to submit their will every one to his will, and their judg- 
ments to his judgment. This is more than consent or concord ; it 
is a real unity of them all in one and the same person, made by 
covenant of every man with every man, in such manner, as if every 
man should say to every man, ' I authorize and give up my rignt of 
governing myself to this man, or to this assembly of men, on this 
condition, that thou give up all thy right to him, and aithorize al 1 
his actions in like manner.' This done, the multitude so united in 
one person is called a commonwealth, in Latin civitas. This is the 
generation of the great Leviathan, or rather (to speak more reverent- 
ly) of that mortal God, to which we owe, under the immortal God, 
our peace and defence. For by this authority, given him by every 
particular man in the commonwealth, he hath the use of so much 
power and strength conferred on him, that by terror thereof, he is 
enabled to perform the wills of them all, to peace at home, and mutual 
aid against their enemies abroad. And in him consisteth the essence 
of the commonwealth; which (to define it) is one person of whose 
acts a great multitude, by mutual covenants one with another, have 
made themselves every one the author, to the end he may use the 
strength and means of them all, as he shall think expedient, for then 
peace and common defence." 

It will readily be inferred even from this short extract that 
the effect of writers of this class, must have been to give to 
style increased clearness and strength, both of thought and 
expression. 

But without doubt, the most favorable specimen of prose 
composition, during this reign, is found in the writings of 
Milton. These productions, from the nature of the subjects 
on which they treat, and of the occasions which called them 
forth, are now but little read, yet they contain passages, 
which, for loftiness and strength, and even melody of style, 
are unrivahed in the literature of any age or any language 
25* 



294 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 



The inspiring mind rises above the faults of the age aizd 
of the individual, and even the stiff and involved idioms of 
the Latin language, which abound in his writings, are so 
much in accordance with the dignity and greatness of his 
thoughts, that they do not seem so unnatural and cumber- 
some, as in the writings of other men of less gifted minds. 

Instead of selecting a passage from the writings of Milton, 
which might exhibit his style in his moments of poetic inspi- 
ration, I present the following, which owes its origin to the 
troubled times in which he lived : — 



" Putting off the courtier, he (the king) now puts on the philoso 
pher, and sententiously disputes to this effect : that reason ought to 
be used to men, force and terror to beasts ; that he deserves to be a 
slave who captivates the rational sovereignty of his sou- and lib 
erty of his will to compulsion ; that he would not forfeit that free- 
dom, which cannot Oe denied him as a king, because it belongs to 
him as a man and a Christian, though to preserve his kingdom ; 
but rather die enjoying the empire of his soul, tnan live in such a 
vassalage, as not to use his reason and conscience to like or dislike 
as a king — which words of themselves, as far as they are sense, 
good and philosophical, yet in the mouth of him who, to engross thia 
common liberty to himself, would tread down all other men into the 
condition of slaves and beasts, they quite lose their commendation. 
He confesses a rational sovereignty of soul, and freedom of will, in 
every man, and yet with an implicit repugnancy would have his 
reason the sovereign of that sovereignty, and would captivate and 
make useless that natural freedom of will in all other men but him- 
self. But them that yield him this obedience he so well rewards, as 
to pronounce them worthy to be slaves. They who have lost all to 
be his subjects, may stoop and take up the reward. What that free- 
dom is, which cannot be denied him as a king, because it belongs 
to him as a man and a Christian, I understand not. If it be his neg 
ative voice, it concludes all men who have not such a negative as 
his against a whole parliament, to be neither men nor Christians ; 
and what was he himself then all this while, that we denied it hirn 
a* a king ? Will he say that he enjoyed within himself the less 
f - <?edom for that 3 Might not he, both as a man and a Chrislian, 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 295 

have reigned within himself in full sovereignty of soul, no mm re- 
pining, but that his outward and imperious will must invade the 
civil liberties of a nation ? Did we therefore not permit him to use 
his reason and his conscience, not permitting him to bereave us the 
use of ours ? And might not he have enjoyed both as a king, 
governing us as freemen by what laws we ourselves would be 
governed ? 

" It was not the inward use of his reason and his conscience that 
would content him, but to use them both as a law over all his sub- 
jects, in whatever he declared as a king to like or dislike, which use 
of reason, most reasonless and unconscionable, is the utmost that any 
tyrant ever pretended over his vassals." 

Of a kindred spirit in his devotedness to republican 
principles, was the patriotic and highminded Algernon 
Sidney. His mind was not indeed cast in the same mould 
with that of Milton, but his " Discourses on Government," 
eriiich is the principal work he has left, discover an extent 
:>f knowledge, and a power of thought, which entitle him 
io a high rank as a philosopher and a scholar. His style 
also, though less glowing than that of Milton, is marked by 
purity, propriety, and strength. 

The following passage, considering the period of the 
world in which it was written, evidently comes forth from 
a mind that thinks for itself, and dares to avow its thoughts. 

" Such as have reason, understanding, and common sense, will 
and ought to make use of it in those things that concern themselves 
and their posterity, and suspect the words of such as are interested 
in deceiving, or persuading them not to see with their own eyes, 
that they may be more easily deceived. This rule obliges us so far 
to search into matters of state, as to examine the original principles 
")f government in general, and of our own in particular. We can- 
not distinguish truth from falsehood, right from wrong, or know 
what obedience we owe unto the magistrate, or what we may justly 
sxpect from him, unless we know what he is, and why he is, and 
\j whom he is made to be what he is. These may be perhaos callea 
Mysteries of State,' and some would persuade us chey are to 



296 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 

be esteemed ' Arcana ; ' but whosoever confesses himself to be ig» 
norant of them, must acknowledge that he is incapable of giving 
any judgment upon things relating to the superstructure ; and in sc 
doing evidently shows to others, that they ought not at all to hearket 
to what they say." 

In the preceding reign, I spcke of the style of Burton as 
a literary curiosity; that of Thomas Brown, the author of 
" Religio Medici," may be ranked in the same class. Brown 
possessed an eccentric genius, and we find in his writings 
many original and striking thoughts. What, however, par* 
ticularly arrests our attention, is the extravagance of his 
style. Many of his words are strange and unheard-of com- 
pounds, or exotics, newly introduced from foreign languages. 
There is also so much of circumlocution and of unnatural- 
ness in his forms of expression, that it is often difficult to 
divine what he would say. Two or three short extracts wiL 
exhibit his peculiar manner better than any description. 

" We hope it will not be unconsidered, that we find no open tract 
or constant manuduction in this labyrinth, but are ofttimes feigned 
to wander in the America and untravelled parts of truth. We are 
often constrained to stand alone against the strength of opinion, and 
to meet the Goliah and giant of authority, with contemptible peb 
bles and feeble arguments, drawn from the script and slender stock 
of ourselves." 

" of lower consideration is the foretelling of strangers, from 

the fungus parcels about the wicks of candles ; which only signifietb 
a moist and piurious air about them, hindering the avolation of the 
light and parillous particles; whereupon they are forced to settle 
upon the snast." 

" Persons lightly dipped, not grained in generous honesty, are 
but pale in goodness, and faint-hued in sincerity ; but be thou wha 
thou virtuously art, and let not the ocean wash away thy tincture 
stand magnetically upon that axis where prudent simplicity hatl 
fixed thee, and let no temptation invert the poles of thv honest* 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 297 

Hang early plummets upon the heels of pride, and let ambition have 
but an epicycle or narrow circuit in thee." 

I shall close the account of the writers of this age, with 
the mention of one, who, from the time of his birth, is to be 
ranked in this period, though, as was remarked of Bishop 
Taylor, he might with some propriety be enumerated among 
the writers of the next reign. I refer to the poet Cowley. 

In the few comments, that have been made on the style of 
most of the writers who have been mentioned, there has been 
occasion to speak of their harshness and stiffness of manner. 
The poet Cowley, in the brief specimen of prose writing 
which he has left us, exhibits to us a style of the opposite 
character. The following passage from his Essay on Agri- 
culture, is written in his usual manner : — 

" The first wish of Virgil was to be a good philosopher; the seconu, 
i good husbandman ; and God (whom he seemed to understand 
better than most of the most learned heathens) dealt with him just 
as he did with Solomon ; because he prayed for wisdom in the first 
place, he added all things else which were subordinately to be de- 
sired. He made him one of the best philosophers and best husband 
men; and, to adorn both those faculties, the best poet; he made him 
besides all this a rich man, and a man who desired to be no richer. 
fortunatus nimium, et bona qui sua novit. To be a husbandman is 
but a retreat from the city ; to be a philosopher, from the world ; or 
rather, a retreat from the world as it is man's, into the world as it 
is God's. Bat since nature denies to most men the capacity or ap- 
petite, and fortune allows but to very few the opportunities or 
possibility of applying themselves wholly to philosophy, the best 
mixture of human affairs that we can make are the employments of 
a country life. 

" We are here among the vast and noble scenes of nature ; we are 
there (alluding to courts and cities) among the pitiful shifts of policy 
we walk here in the light and open ways of the divine bounty ; we 
grope there in the dark and confused labyrinths of human malice 
our senses are here feasted with the clear and genuine taste of their 
objects, which are all sophisticated there, and for the most part oyer' 



298 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 

whelme 1 with their contrarieties. Here pleasure looks (methinks) Iikfl 
a beautiful, constant, and modest wife ; it is there an unprudent, 
fickle, and painted harlot. Here is harmless and cheap plenty, there 
guilty and expensive luxury. 

" I shall only instance in one delight more, the most natural and 
best natured of all others, a perpetual companion of the husbandman, 
and that is, the satisfaction of looking round about him, and seeing 
nothing but the effects and improvements of his own art and diligence: 
to be always gathering of some fruits of it, and at the same time to 
behold others ripening, and others budding; to see all his fields and 
gardens covered with the beauteous creations of his own industry; 
and to see, like God, that all his works are good." 

In this passage, we find an easy flow and an unaffected 
simplicity of expression. The words are happily chosen, 
the sentences perspicuous and well modulated, — not crowded 
and clogged by unnecessary clauses, as in most other writings 
of the time, but having unity and naturalness. 



Reign of Cliarlcs II. 

Our attention is now to be directed to writers, who 
appeared during a different state of public affairs, and 
whose style, when compared with that of the preceding age, 
corresponds to the change which had taken place in the 
condition of the community. The Restoration gave to lit- 
erature that court influence, which in almost every period of 
English history has been powerful. In this instance, too, it 
was of a kind so much in contrast to the preceding state of 
the nation, that its effects are prominent. To the austerity 
and affected plainness and coarseness of the commonwealth 
succeeded the voluptuousness and elegance of the court of 
Charles II., and the effects of this change are at once seen 
m the style. The harshness and stiffness of former periods 
give place to a smoother and more oolished manner of 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 299 

writing. The influence of an increased intercourse with the 
French nation had a similar tendency. 

During this reign, the church offers to our notice several 
distinguished writers. Of Taylor I have already spoken; 
South, Barrow, and Tillotson, also require to be mentioned. 

Dr. South is a favorable specimen of a class of writers 
who may be called witty preachers. Hardly any one is led 
to read his sermons for the religious instruction which they 
give, and for the cultivation of practical piety. They are 
read rather as a book of amusement, and many are the satir- 
ical and witty turns of expression, which excite a smile. It 
must be acknowledged, however, that there is often wisdom 
united with his wit ; and some passages are found of great 
power and beauty. One of this class I have selected. It is 
g description of the passions before the fall of man 



lt And first for the grand leading affection of all, which is love 
This is the great instrument and engine of nature, the bond and 
cement of society, the spring and spirit of the universe. Love is 
3uch an affection, as cannot so properly be said to be in the soul as 
the soul to be in that. It is the whole man wrapt up into one desire ; 
all the powers, vigor and faculties of the soul abridged into one in 
clination. And it is of that active, restless nature, that it must of 
necessity exert itself, and like the fire, to which it is so often com- 
pared, it is not a free agent, to choose whether it will heat or no, but 
it streams forth by natural results and unavoidable emanations; so 
that it will fasten upon an inferior, unsuitable object, rather than none 
at all. The soul may sooner leave off to subsist, than to love ; and 
like the vine, it withers and dies, if it has nothing to embrace. Now, 
,his affection in a state of innocence was happily pitched upon its 
right object; it flamed up in direct fervors of devotion to God, and in 
collateral emissions of charity to its neighbor. 

" Next for the lightsome passion of Joy. It was not that, which 
tow often usurps this name ; that trivial, vanishing, superficial thing, 
that only gilds the apprehension, and plays upon the surface of the 
w.-ul. It was not the mere crackling of thorns, a sudden blaze of the 
spirita, the exultation of a tickled fancy or » pleased appetite. Jov 



300 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 

was then a masculine and a severe thing; the recreation of the judg 
rnent, the jubilee of reason. It was the result of a real good, suitablj 
applied. It commenced on the solidities of truth, and the substance 
of fruition. It did not run out in voice, or indecent eruptions, but 
filled the soul, as God does the universe, silently and without noise 
It was refreshing, but composed ; like the pleasantness of youth tem- 
pered with the gravity of age ; or the mirth of a festival managed with 
the silence of contemplation." 

The name of Barrow is known to us as being associated 
with that of the illustrious Newton, in his contributions to 
the advancement of science. His sermons also give him a 
claim to be ranked among the most eminent preachers and 
divines of the English church. He is said to have devoted 
more than usual attention to the perfecting of his style, and 
his freedom from some prevailing faults give evidence that 
his efforts of this kind were not in vain. Not only are there 
passages of great power and beauty, which indicate an ele- 
vated mind and refined taste, but in his writings generally, 
there are a purity of diction, a correctness of construction 
and a richness and copiousness of language, which are 
rarely surpassed. And of the theological writings of this 
period, it may be safely said, there are none read with more 
interest and profit at the present day, than the sermons of 
Barrow. The following extract is from a discourse on 
Devotion : — 

"Frequency is indeed necessary for the breeding, the nourishment, 
the growth and improvement of all piety. Devotion is that holy and 
heavenly fire, which darteth into our minds the light of spiritual 
knowledge, which kindleth in our hearts the warmth of holy desires, 
if, therefore, we do continue long absent from it, a night of daiknes? 
will overspread our minds, a deadening coldness will seize upon om 
affections. It is the best food of our souls, which preserve th then 
life and health, which repaireth their strength and vigor, which ren 
deretn them lusty and active : if we therefore long abstain from it, 
we shall starve or pine away; we shall be faint and feeble in all re 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. «W)J 

.Lgious performances ; we shall have none at all, or a very languid 
and meagre piety. 

" To maintain in us a constant and steady disposition to obedience, 
to correct our perverse inclinations, to curb our unruly passions, to 
strengthen us against temptations, to comfort us in anxieties and 
distresses, we do need continual supplies of grace from God; the 
which ordinarily are communicated in devotion, as the channel 
which conveyeth, or the instrument which helpeth to procure it, or 
the condition upon which it is granted. Faith, hope, love, spiritual 
comfort and joy, all divine graces, are chiefly elicited, expressed, exer- 
cised therein and thereby; it is therefore needful that it should fre- 
quently be used ; seeing otherwise we shall be in danger to fail in 
discharging our chief duties, and to want the best graces. 

" It is frequency of devotion, also, which maintair?pth that friend- 
ship with God, which is the soul of piety. As familiar conversation 
(wherein men do express their minds and affections) mutually 
breedeth acquaintance, and cherisheth good- will of men to one anoth- 
er. — but long forbearance thereof dissolveth, or slackeneth the bonds 
of amity, breaking their intimacy, and cooling their kindness, — so is 
it in respect to God; it is frequent converse with him which beget- 
teth a particular acquaintance with him, a mindful regard of him, a 
hearty liking to him, a delightful taste of his goodness, and, conse- 
quently, a sincere and solid good-will toward him; but intermission 
thereof produceth estrangement or enmity towards him. If we sel- 
dom come at God, we shall little know him, not much care for him, 
scarce remember him, rest insensible of his love, and regardless of 
his favor ; a coldness, a shyness, a distaste, an antipathy toward him, 
will, by degrees, creep upon us. Abstinence from his company and 
presence will cast us into conversations destructive or prejudicial to 
our friendship with him ; wherein soon we shall contract familiarity 
and friendship with his enemies, (the world and the flesh,) which are 
inconsistent with love to him, which will dispose us to forget him, 
or to dislike and loathe him." 



Of an entirely opposite style to this forcible and impres- 
sive manner of writing, are the sermons of Bishop Tillotson. 
Drake has thus happily contrasted these two contemporary 
witters: "Whilst richness, vehemence, and strength, char- 
acterize the productions of Barrow, simplicity, languor, and 
26 



302 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 

enervation, form the chief features in the diction of Tillotson 
To the former belong a fervid fancy and a poetic ear, glow 
ing figures and harmonious cadences ; to the latter, persp; 
cuity and smoothness, verbal purity, and unaffected ease. If 
Barrow be occasionally involved, harsh, or redundant, Tillot- 
son is too generally loose and feeble ; and he seldom displays 
much either of beauty or melody in the arrangement or con- 
struction of his periods." 

The following passage is a favorable specimen of the style 
of Tillotson : — 



" Give me leave to recommend to you this new commandment 
that ye love one another; which is almost a new commandment 
still, and hardly the worse for wearing ; so seldom is it put on, and 
so little hath it been practised among Christians for several ages. 

" Consider seriously with yourselves, ought not the great matters 
wherein we are agreed, — our union in the doctrines of the Christian 
religion, and in all the necessary articles of that faith zckick was once 
delivered to the saints, — in the same sacraments, and in all the sub 
stantial parts of God's worship, and in the great duties and virtues 
of the Christian life, — to be of greater force to unite us, than difference 
m doubtful opinions, and in little rites and circumstances of worship, 
to divide and break us? 

" Are not the things about which we differ, in their nature indif- 
ferent? that is, things about which there ought to be no difference 
among wise men ? Are they not at a great distance from the life and 
essence of religion, and rather good or bad, as they tend to the peace 
and unity of the church, or are made use of to schism or faction, 
than either necessary or evil in themselves? And shall little scru- 
ples weigh so far with us, as, by breaking the peace of the church 
about them, to endanger the whole of religion ? Shall we take one 
another by the throat for a hundred pence, when our common adver 
eary stands ready to clap upon us an action of ten thousand talents ? 

This passage has more vivacity than is usually found in 
the writings of Tillotson. The extract found in the school 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 303 

books on the Advantage of Truth and Sincerity, is, perhaps, 
a fairer specimen of his style. 

If now we turn from these dignitaries of the English 
church to the non-conformists of this reign, we find a class 
of writers of different, but not inferior, claims to our consid- 
eration. I refer to such men as Howe, Bates, Baxter, and 
Bunyan ; men who, for intellectual vigor, for richness and 
originality, and, I may add, for poetical beauty of thought 
and language, are not surpassed in any period of English 
literature. It is true their tastes had not been fully subject- 
ed to the refining influences of classical learning, (some of 
them were uneducated men,) neither had they the same rich 
iterary stores for illustration and ornament, as were pos- 
sessed by others ; but these defects were well supplied by na- 
tive genius, an intimate knowledge of men, and of things 
around them, and, above all, of the workings of their own 
hearts. They stand forth to < ur view, not as refined schol- 
ars, but as witnesses of the enlarging and exalting influence 
of the Christian religion on the minds of men. The writings 
of Baxter and Bunyan are familiar to all ; I shall therefore 
confine the specimens given of this class of writers to two 
short extracts from Howe and Bates. The following is from 
Howe's " Blessedness of the Righteous" : — 

" To live destitute of a divine presence ; to discern no beam of the 
heavenly glory; to go up and down, day by day, and perceive noth- 
ing of God, no glimmering, no appearance ; — this is disconsolate as 
well as sinful darkness. What can be made of creatures, what of 
the daily events of providence, if we see not in them the glory of a 
Deity? if we do not contemplate the divine wisdom, power, and 
goodness, diffused every where ? Our practical atheism, and inobser 
vance of God, makes the world become to us the region and snadow 
of death, states us as among ghosts and spectres, makes all tilings 
look with a ghastly face, imprints death upon every thing we see, 
pncircles us with gloomy, dreadful shades, and with uncomfortable 
apparitions. ****** Sur^lv there is little heaven in all this 



304 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 

But, if we now open our eyes upon that all-compTehending glorj 
apply them to a steady intuition of God, how heavenly a life sha3 
we then live in the world! To have God always in view, as the 
director and end of all our actions; to make our eye crave leave of 
God to consult him before we venture upon any thing, and implore 
his guidance and blessing; upon all occasions to direct our prayers 
to him, and to look up, to make our eye wait his commanding look, 
ready to receive ail intimations of his will ; — that is an angelic life. 
# * * * This is to walk in the light, amidst a serene, placid, mild 
light, that infuses no unquiet thoughts, admits no guilty fears, 
nothing that can disturb or annoy us. To eye God in all our com- 
forts, and observe the smiling aspects of his face, when he dispenses 
them to us, — to eye him in all our afflictions, and consider the fra- 
ternal wisdom that instructs us in them, — how would this increase 
our mercies, and mitigate our trouble ! To eye him in all his crea- 
tures, and observe the various prints of the Creator's glory stamped 
upon them, — with how lively a lustre would it clothe the world, and 
make every thing look with a pleasant face ! What a heaven were 
it, to look upon God as filling all in all ! and how sweetly would it, 
erewhile, raise our souls into some such sweet, seraphic strains, — 
Holy, holy, the whole earth is full f his glory ! ' " 

Bates, in a sermon on " Heaven," thus speaks of the pleas- 
ures that spring from knowledge in the regions of the blessed : 

" When the soul opens its eyes to the clear discoveries of the first 
truth, in which is no shadow of error, and its breast to the dear and 
intimate embraces of the supreme good, in which is no mixture of 
evil, and beyond which nothing remains to be known, noth ng to be 
enjoyed, what a deluge of the purest and sweetest pleasure will over- 
flow it ! We cannot ascend in our thoughts so high, as to conceive 
the excess of joy that attends those operations of the glorified soui 
upon its proper object. Rut something we may conjecture. 

'•Those who are possessed with a noble passion for knowledge, 
how do they despise all lower pleasures in comparison of it ! How 
do they forget themselves, neglect the body, and retire into the mind, 
the highest part of man, and nearest to God! The bare apprehen 
sion of such things, that, by their internal nature, have no attractive 
influence upon the affections, is pleasant to the understanding. A 
the appearance of light, though not attended with any visible beau 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 



ties, refreshes the eye after long darkness, so the clear discovery 
of truths, how abstract soever, that were before unknown, is grateful 
to the intellective faculty. ****** 

" But here are many imperfections that lessen this intellectual pleas- 
ure, which shall cease in heaven. Here, the acquisition of knowl- 
edge is often with the expense of health; the flower of the spirits, 
necessary for natural operations, is wasted by intense thought. How 
often are the learned sickly ! As the flint, when it is struck, gives 
not a spark without consuming itself, so knowledge is obtained by 
studies that waste our faint, sensitive faculties. But there our knowl- 
edge shall be a free emanation from the spring of truth, without our 
labor or pains. Here we learn by circuit, and discern by comparing 
things; ignorant darkness is dispelled by a gradual succession of 
light; but there perfect knowledge shall be infused in a moment. 
Here, after all our labor and toil, how little knowledge do we gain ' 
Every question is a labyrinth, out of which the nimblest and most 
searching minds cannot extricate themselves. How many specious 
errors impose upon our understandings ! We look on things by false 
lights, through deceiving spectacles ; but then our knowledge shall 
be certain and complete. There is no forbidden tree in the celestial 
paradise, as no inordinate affection. We shall see God in all his 
excellencies, the supreme object and end, the only felicity of the soul. 
How will the sight of his glorious perfections, in the first moment, 
quench our extreme thirst, and fill us with joy and admiration ! It 
is not as the naked conception of treasures, that only makes rich in 
idea; but that divine sight gives a real interest in him. The angels 
are so ravished with the beauties and wonders of his face, they never 
divert a moment from the contemplation of it." 



While the theological writers of this period were thus con- 
tributing, in different ways, to the advancement of English 
style, there are found, in other departments of literature, wri- 
tings of the same tendency. Sir William Temple, who flour- 
ished during this reign, may be ranked among the elegant 
writers that adorn the literature of England. He is said to 
have made the improvement of his style an object of special 
effort and study ; and his uncommon purity of language, hi? 
ease and simplicity of expression, the rich ornaments which 
26* 



<i06 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 

embellish his style, and the beauty and melody of his periods 
are evidence of his success. The following description of 
heroic virtue is a fair specimen of his style : — 



"Though it is easier to describe heroic virtue by the effects and 
examples, than by causes or definitions, yet it may be said to arise 
from some great and native excellency of temper or genius, tran- 
scending the common race of mankind, in wisdom, goodness, and for- 
titude. These ingredients, advantaged by birth, improved by educa- 
tion, and assisted by fortune, seem to make that noble composition, 
which gives such a lustre to those who have possessed it, as made 
them appear to common eyes something more than mortals, and to 
have been of some mixture between divine and human race, — to have 
been honored and obeyed in their lives, and, after their deaths, be 
wailed and adored. 

" The greatness of their wisdom appeared in the excellency ot 
their inventions ; and these, by the goodness of their nature, were 
turned and exercised upon such subjects as were of general good to 
mankind, in the common uses of life, or to their own countries, in the 
institutions of such laws, orders, and governments, as were of most 
ease, safety, and advantage, to civil society. Their valor was em- 
ployed in defending their own countries from the violence of ill men 
at home, or enemies abroad, in reducing their barbarous neighbors 
to the same forms and orders of civil lives and institutions, or in re- 
lieving others from the cruelties and oppressions of tyranny and vio- 
lence. ****** 

"1 have said that this excellency of genius must be native, be 
cause it can never grow to any great height, if it be only acquired 01 
affected ; but it must be ennobled by birth, to give it more lustre, es- 
teem, and authority; it must be cultivated by education and instruc 
tion, to improve its growth, and direct its end and application ; and 
it must be assisted by fortune, to preserve it to maturity; because 
the noblest spirit or genius in the world, if it falls, though never so 
bravely, in its first enterprises, cannot deserve enough of mankind 
to pretend to so great a reward as the esteem of heroic virtue. Ant* 
yet, perhaps ; many a person has died in the first battle or adventure 
he achieved, and lies buried in silence and oblivion, who, had he out- 
lived as many dangers as Alexander did, might have shined as bright 
n honor and fame .Vow, since so many stars go to the making up 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 307 

of this constellation, 'tis no wonder it has so seldom appeared in the 
world; nor that, when it does, it is received and followed with so 
much gazing ana veneration." 

I close the specimens of prose writers of this reign, witn 
two short extracts from " Dryden's Essay on Dramatic Poet- 
ry." The prose of this celebrated poet is characterized by 
originality and freshness of thought and language. We per- 
ceive at once in his style his intellectual superiority. He 
did much for the improvement of the language, and justly 
ranks high among the prose writers of English literature. 

»' To begin with Shakspeare. He is the man, who, of all modern, 
and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive 
soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he 
drew them not laboriously, but luckily ; wl.an he describes any 
thing, you more than see it — you feel it. Those who accuse him 
to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation; he 
was naturally learned ; he needed not the spectacles of books to 
read Nature; he looked inwards, and found her there. I cannot say 
he is every where alike; were he so, I should do him injury to com- 
pare him with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat, 
insipid; his comic wit degenerating into clenches, his serious swell- 
ing into bombast. But he is always great, when some great occasion 
is presented to him ; no man can say he ever had a fit subject for wit, 
and did not raise himself as high above the rest of poets. 

Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi. 

" The consideration of this made Mr. Hales of Eton say, that there 
was no subject of which any poet ever writ, but he would produce 
it much better done in Shakspeare ; and however others are now 
generally preferred before him, yet the age wherein he lived, which 
had contemporaries with him, Fletcher and Jonson, never equalled 
them to him in their esteem. 

" Of Chaucer, he says, as he is the father of English poetry, so 
I hold him in the same degree of veneration as the Grecians held 
Homer, or the Romans Virgil. He is a perpetual fountain of good 
sense ; learned in all sciences ; and therefore speaks property on all 
subjects As he knew what to say, so he knows also where to leave 



303 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 



off; a continence which is practised by few writers, and scarcely bj 
any of the ancients, excepting Homer and Virgil. 

"Chaucer fallowed nature every where; but was never sc bold to 
go beyond her ; and there is a great difference of being pdeta, and 
nimis poeta, if we may believe Catullus, as much is betwixt a 
modest behavior and affectation. The verse of Chaucer, I confess, 
^s not harmonious to us ; but it is like the eloquence of one whom 
Tacitus commends — it was auribus istius temporis accommodata. 
They who lived with him, and some time after, thought it musical, 
and it continues so even in our judgment, if compared with the 
numbers of Lydgate and Gower, his contemporaries; there is a rude 
sweetness of the Scotch tune in it, which is natural and pleasing, 
though not perfect. * * * * We can only say, that he lived in the 
infancy of our poetry, and that nothing is brought to perfection at 
the first. We must be children before we can grow men. There 
was an Ennius, and in process of time a Lucilius and a Lucretius 
before Virgil and Horace." 

My limits will not allow of continuing down, through later 
periods, this outline of the history of English style. Neither 
is it necessary, since the productions of more modern writers 
of eminence are well known, and the peculiar traits of theii 
styles have often been pointed out. In looking back upon 
the specimens that have been given, we are able to trace 
the progress of English style from its early and rude state, 
towards the refinement and perfection it has since attained. 
At successive periods, writers have appeared, whose influence 
has been felt, and who have, individually, contributed some- 
thing to the improvement of their native language and style. 
Perhaps their excellences have been united with many faults ; 
but while the beneficial tendencies of the former have been 
felt, and become incorporated with the language and literature 
of the country, the latter have disappeared before the improve, 
ments of succeeding ages. There have also been periods, 
when, from the influence of some unpropitious causes, taste has 
become corrupt, and the progress of style has been stayed , 
but even in these periods, individuals have appeared, vho have 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 399 

risen above the prevailing faults of their times, and exerted 
an influence, which, if not felt by their own age, has been 
powerful on the age which has followed. 

To present a more connected and condensed view of the 
influence of different writers upon the progress of English 
style, I shall attempt a classification of them founded upon 
the different qualities by which they are characterized, and 
which they may have contributed to impart to the style of 
their age. 

1. The first class consists of those to whom English style 
is indebted for its copiousness and dignity ; copiousness, as 
they introduce many new words and forms of expressions ; 
and dignity, as the words and phrases, thus introduced by 
them, were more elevated than those in common conversa- 
tional use. In this class are to be enumerated those who 
flourished about the time of the Revival of Letters. Such 
are Wilson, Ascham, Cheke, More, and others of this date. 
In some of the succeeding reigns also, especially in that of 
James I., there were writers who were devoted to classical 
pursuits, and whose influence was of the same nature. In 
some of these writers, however, are found gross defects of 
style — harshness, obscurity, and what at the present day 
would be accounted downright pedantry. 

2. The next class of writers is composed of those whose 
style is in some degree easy and idiomatic. These are 
either classical scholars of more than usual purity of taste, 
or uneducated, self-made men, of strong common sense and 
practical views. These are the writers who have given 
perspicuity, ease, and naturalness to English style, and their 
productions continue to this day to have a charm, both with 
the learned and with common readers. It is pure English 
undefiled, flowing in its own native channel, ai d reflecting 
home objects and scenes. In this rank may be placed Ra« 
eigh, Cowley, and in latter days Swift and Paley, and also 



310 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 



the writers of the Bunyan school, who alike contributed U 
preserve the vestal flame of piety in the church, and the 
purity of their native language and style. 

3. Nearly allied to this class is a third, consisting of those 
who have helped to give simplicity and purity to style. Such 
are the writers of Chronicles and of Essays and Treatises 
on practical common-place subjects — matter of fact men, who 
by the simple narrative, or the plain, practical exhibition of 
common truths, have sought to inform and improve those 
around them. Holinshed, Stow, and Bishop Hall are of this 
class. 

4. I would next refer to those who have given precision 
and definiteness to style. They are writers of accurate, 
discriminating minds — the philosophers of their day — close 
thinkers and able reasoners — those whose favorite occupa- 
tion it was, to search after truth, and either to invent or 
investigate the different theories, from time to time advanced. 
The direct tendency of this class of writers to promote the 
attainment of the valuable traits of style just mentioned, is 
readily seen. Such writers are Herbert, Hobbes, Boyle, and 
especially Locke, to whom, perhaps, more than to any other 
author, English style is indebted for precision and accuracy. 

5. Another class of writers embraces those who were 
men of poetical minds — those who possessed an active, 
playful fancy, and who were in no ordinary degree suscep- 
tible of emotions of taste. Their writings abounded in rich 
profusion of illustration and imagery, and their well-mod- 
ulated periods show that they were not insensible to the 
harmony of numbers. It is from this source that style 
derives its richness, its melody and beauty; and when> as 
has sometimes been the case, such writers h ive appeared at 
periods in which these traits were peculiaily needed, their 
influence has been highly advantageous. The writings of 
Sir Philip Sydney, of Bishop Taylor, of Cowley, and of 
Temple, have thus enriched and adorned English style. 



HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 311 

6. Liveliness of fancy, where it has existed without the 
guidance of a chaste and correct taste, has sometimes taken 
a different direction. It has manifested itself in quaintness, 
in wit, and amusing conceits. Writers of this kind, though 
they abound in faults, have, without doubt, contributed 
something to the advancement of style. Their sentences 
are usually short, and their forms of expression striking 
and sententious. Thus they helped to break up the long, 
involved, intricate periods, which formerly prevailed, and to 
give to style vivacity and sprightliness. Lilly, Bacon in his 
Essays, Donne, Ben Jonson, Burton, and other writers of the 
reign of James I., may be ranked in this class. 

7. There have appeared at different periods those, whose 
productions are examples of strength, force, and manliness 
of style. Such are most controversial writings that have 
been called forth in times of political or religious revolution. 
And whenever the nature of the subject, or the circumstances 
of the individual, have been such as deeply to interest the 
feelings, to stir up the soul, and to put into powerful action 
the faculties of the mind, we have writings, in which the 
qualities mentioned above are prominent. The extracts from 
Milton 3 Barrow, and Sidney, are examples of this manner of 
writing. 

8. The only remaining class of writers, to whom I shall 
refer, includes those who have given elevation, richness, and 
every noble quality of style. They are those who, by their 
contemporaries, and by succeeding ages, have been esteemed 
intellectually great, and who, from their originality, their 
rich flow of thought and expression, and the strength, 
comprehensiveness, and clearness of their views, were well 
fitted to instruct and improve their race. A few such names 
are found in English literature ; and as they have appeared 
at successive periods, it is easy to discern their powerful 
influence on the advancement of their native style. Such 
men were Bacon, and Milton, and Dryden. 



CONTENTS. 



Ofkep. Page. 

I. On Thought as the 
Foundation of Good 

Writing 13 

Method 21 

Transitions 37 

II. On Taste 41 

Emotions of Beauty and 

Sublimity .... 43 

Standard of Taste . . 49 

Refinement of Taste . 57 

Delicacy of Taste . . 60 

Correctness of Taste . . 60 
Fine Arts ... .64 

ill. On the Nature and 
Objects of a Litera- 
ry Taste 67 

Principles on which at- 
tempts to please are 

founded 68 

Simile on Formal Com- 
parison 77 

Metaphor or Implied 
Comparison .... 85 

Allusions 93 

Figurative language . .102 
Personification .... 106 

Apostrophe 112 

Hyperbole . . . . 113 

V On Skill in the Use of 

Language .... 117 

Section 1. On Verba* 
Criticism 117 

Section 2. On the Com- 
oosition of Sentences 125 



Chap. rag« 

On Connectives , 144 

V. On Style. 

Section 1. On the qua i- 
ties of a Good Style 158 

Correctness 158 

Perspicuity 159 

Vivacity . . ... 164 

Euphony 179 

Naturalness 181 

Section 2. On the Modes 
of Writing which char- 
acterize the produc- 
tions of different indi- 
viduals ...... 185 

Idiomatic and Easy Style 185 
Concise and Diffuse . . 189 
Forcible and Vehement . 193 
Elevated and Dignified . 195 
Neat and Elegant . . . 198 
Plain and Ornamented . 199 
Section 3. On Modes of 
Writing suited to dif- 
ferent oubjects and oc- 
casions 202 

Epistolary Writing . . 202 
Essay Writing . . . .205 
Historical Writing . . 209 

Biography 212 

Fictitious Writing . . 214 
Argumentative Discus- 
sion 217 

Oration 218 

Directions for forming a 
Good Style . . . .224 

Exercises 225 

Historical Dissertation . 266 
































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